


Say Something

by kingsofeverything



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 28 year old Louis, 50 year old Harry, Actor Louis Tomlinson, Age Difference, Alpha Louis, Alpha Louis Tomlinson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Art, Because it’s definitely there but ehhh, Comfort, Comfort No Hurt, Digital Art, Discussion of Abortion, Divorced Harry Styles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Give Harry a baby, Happy Ending, Heat/rut, Hurt/Comfort, Idk I’m not sure how to tag the comfort stuff, Illustrations, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Insecure Harry, Lactation, Lactation Kink, Lawyer Harry, Lawyer Harry Styles, Louis manages a theater, M/M, Male Lactation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Multiple Orgasms, Older Harry, Older Harry Styles, Omega Harry, Omega Harry Styles, Past Harry Styles/Original Male Character(s), Past Louis Tomlinson/Original Male Character(s), Post-Divorce, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Harry, Pregnant Sex, Scent Marking, Scenting, Skateboarder Louis Tomlinson, Smut, Suspension Of Disbelief, The art isn't in every chapter but there's a good bit of it, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrealistic Sex, i mean duh - Freeform, side Ziam, side shiall, sort of but not really but he does act on stage soooooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 105,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsofeverything/pseuds/kingsofeverything
Summary: At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.Twenty-eight-year-old Alpha Louis Tomlinson aims to change that.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Shawn Mendes, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 912
Kudos: 1082





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiii and welcome to my age difference A/B/O fic :D 
> 
> Some notes to start: 
> 
> I consider this to be a sort of laid-back A/B/O universe. A/B/O Lite™️. Harry's an Omega, he's divorced, he's a lawyer, he's independent, etc. There aren't a lot of societal limitations on Omegas, though there are some. If anyone remembers me complaining about writing the scents in my other A/B/O fic (which were a big part of the plot), this is very different from that. I intentionally never explicitly state what they smell like. 
> 
> All of the thanks in the world to [Nic](http://louandhazaf.tumblr.com), my best friend and beta. I love you!
> 
> Special thanks to [Emmu](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com) for reading the beginning and making me laugh with your comments! Thank you to [Eli](http://gaycousinlarry.tumblr.com) for reading the whole thing and yelling and crying at me and telling me how much you love it! And thanks to everyone who's been supportive as I've been writing this (shout outs to Jen and Kasia!)
> 
> Also ❤️❤️❤️ to Maggie @hereforlou who drew 2 of the art pieces in this fic. They appear in chapters 19& 27.
> 
> I did the other art throughout the fic.
> 
> **If you’d like to translate any of my fics, feel free, but please post the translation on ao3.**
> 
>   
> **Please do not post this fic or any of my other fics on any other websites.**  
>    
>    
> [Tumblr post, if you'd be so kind as to reblog :)](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/616745968334979072/say-something-by-kingsofeverything-louis-harry)  
>    
>    
> NOW, on with the story...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a workskin to create text messages for this fic, so if you click "Show Creator's Style" on the little button up top, you'll be able to see them. Otherwise, you'll just see the text.

Harry takes a sip from the glass of white wine he’s been carrying around all night. It’s no longer cold, but that just means he’ll drink it slower. He can’t get drunk, that’s the last bit of gossip he wants getting back to his ex-husband. And while he’d love a glass of red wine, he doesn’t want a wine stained mouth in any photos that might come out of the night. God knows, his children have taken enough. Maybe they’re playing some sort of photo scavenger hunt. Maybe they’ll let him join. 

A waiter passes in front of him and Harry takes two of whatever he’s serving. He sidles up next to his sister, grey-streaked hair in her signature bob and bangs. 

“Crab-mushroom-puff-thing?” Harry asks, and Gemma barely glances at it before popping it into her mouth. 

“Cheese-onion-puff-thing,” Gemma says around it. 

“What’s, um…” Harry nibbles at the edge of the appetizer. He doesn’t want his minimizer to have to work any harder. “What’s with the heavy hors d'oeuvres and cocktail attire?” 

Gemma pulls back and takes a good look at him over the rim of her champagne flute. “No breakdowns?”

“None. Promise.” Harry holds his hand to his heart. He hasn’t had one in months. He even made it through the holidays free and clear, and he’s not about to ruin his own fiftieth birthday party. Especially not when it’s this bad already—like a mix of a public school prom and a family reunion. 

“Elizabeth thought it’d be depressing if we did the usual birthday dinner in the formal dining room without Richard seated at the head of the table.”

Harry rolls his eyes. She’s not wrong. It would’ve been awful. And he would’ve had to clean up afterwards. “I don’t see why this was the only other option.”

“They tried,” Gemma says, tipping her head towards Harry's three daughters. They’re hiding in the corner taking selfies, all three of them crammed together to fit in the frame. “Jane wanted to do something small—just your girls and Zoe and me and Mom—but she wanted to do one of those things where you paint while you drink wine.”

“Paint canvases or ceramics? Like wall art or coffee mugs and plates?” 

Gemma shrugs. “Not sure. Does it matter?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. Don’t particularly want to do either. Though I can’t say this is better.”

“Char wanted to go camping somewhere warm.” Gemma tries, but fails to contain her smirk. “Glamping is what she called it. Apparently there are beds. But no air conditioning. I put a stop to that plan early on.”

“Thank you,” Harry says. “This isn’t easy for them.”

His children are having a harder time adjusting to the divorce than he is. 

It's understandable. It was a shock for Harry to find out about his husband's affairs, but the girls were blindsided.

Though, perhaps part of their struggle is with seeing him as an entity separate from their father. He hasn’t felt like his own person for a long time now, and he's still trying to find his place.

Char points her phone at them, gesturing for them to smile for the camera, and Harry leans towards Gemma, a practiced grin already pasted on his face. As soon as the picture is taken, Harry mutters, “I’m selling the house.” 

“Good,” Gemma says. 

“Buying one of those new condos downtown. Walking distance to my office.”

“The last thing you need is the opportunity to work more.”

Harry shrugs and stifles a yawn. He looks pointedly around the room, smiling and nodding as he makes eye contact with old friends and colleagues. “How much longer do you think I have to stay?” 

“It’s _your_ fiftieth, Harry. I think you decide when you’re done.” Gemma grabs his elbow and steers him to the bar. Despite his protests, she forces a full glass of red wine into his hand. “No one will think you’re leaving if you take it with you.” 

She leads him to the kitchen under the pretense of thanking the staff, which Harry does, of course. Right before Gemma dumps his wine in a paper cup and takes him out the back door. 

▓▓▓

Harry’s doctor wheels herself back and forth on her stool, looking at Harry’s chart. “You’re in very good shape, Mr. Henderson—” 

“Styles,” Harry corrects her quickly. 

“Mr. Styles,” Doctor Fitzpatrick says. “I’m sorry.”

“I… I filled out the forms to remove Richard from my files as my Alpha. Now that the divorce is final.” Harry chuckles quietly into his fist, winks and says, “I’m on the market.” Doctor Fitzpatrick’s eyebrows shoot up at Harry’s bad joke, and Harry rushes to explain. Or over explain, as is his tendency. 

“Well, Mr. Styles, I do wish you’d made an appointment with me sooner. How have you been handling your heats?” 

Harry’s skin prickles as warmth spreads up his chest and neck. It’s not his favorite thing to talk about. He sighs. If he can’t tell his doctor… “Richard got me through the first one. Which… That was quite embarrassing and I haven’t and won’t do that again. Needs must, but I’ll sit on the bedpost before I’ll sit on his knot.” Doctor Fitzpatrick starts to speak, but Harry talks over her. “Sorry. It’s an idiom.”

“I’m aware, Mr. Styles. Now. Your heats since then?”

“The second one was a surprise. Rode it out at home. It was three weeks early and I didn’t notice the signs. I’d been on a regular twelve week cycle for so long before that… Well, I know better now.” Harry nods and says, “The last one was right before my birthday. I stayed at a full service heat spa. I mean, they say full service, but they don’t mean it.” Harry laughs too loudly, even joking about it—sex—makes him squirm. “I took lucidity meds for that one. Wanted to be aware of… Well, you know, with the Omega nurses… I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

Doctor Fitzpatrick makes a note on her clipboard and Harry leans forward, paper gown crumpling. She looks up and Harry doesn’t try to hide that he’s trying to read her messy scrawl upside down. She taps her pen and says, “Did the lucidity meds work well?”

“Yes, but, um… I don’t think I’ll use them again. I’d rather…” Harry’d rather have no recollection whatsoever of how he begs to be knotted. The meds make him aware, but the awareness doesn’t afford him any more control. 

At the time he didn’t care, but the delayed embarrassment was almost enough to make Harry decide to avoid the spa from there on out. He cried each time the nurses came in to shower him, feed him, and change his bedclothes, and he realized that none of them were there to fuck him. He cried harder when they exchanged his toys for a clean and sterilized batch, afraid that they were leaving him alone with just his hands. If he’s going to do that again, he’s not interested in remembering. 

Harry exhales and says, “I don’t plan to take them again.”

“As far as your cycle, most likely, it’s due to stress, though it could be time to start a daily hormone supplement. We could—”

“No, um… No. I mean, I know eventually… I think this is just the divorce and stress. If you think I need to have tests done, that’s fine, but I—”

“It’s alright, Mr. Styles. We’ll move on.” Doctor Fitzpatrick scoots forward and pats his knee. Chewing her bottom lip, she makes another note on her clipboard. “Is there another Alpha in the picture?” Harry shakes his head, and she asks, “How are your scent neutralizers working?”

“Fine. Aren’t they? I used them this morning.” Harry tips his head, but she doesn’t lean in. 

“They’re working. You’re perfectly neutral.” She checks her clipboard and frowns. “Your irregular cycle could be helped by spending your heats with an Alpha. It could do a lot to take the… weight off of you. Would you be interested in our matching program?”

“What… What do you mean? I’d spend my heat with some unknown Alpha in rut? Like in a laboratory or something?”

“No.” The doctor laughs quietly. “If only, right? We don’t get enough funding for research like that. No, it’s more informal. Our medical practice has offices that treat Alphas and Betas as well as Omegas. Not everyone is in a long term relationship. Not everyone wants to, or even can, take themselves through heat or rut alone. And yes, there are dating services. But my colleagues and I started matching up our patients a few years ago. We actually have an app now, if you…” she trails off, reaching into one of the folders in her hands. 

They sit there staring at each other for a moment, Doctor Fitzpatrick waiting for Harry to give some sort of signal that he’s interested in the program. He blinks slowly, as memories of his last heat ricochet around his brain. 

“What’s it like?” Harry asks. “Fifty-year-old male Omega seeks male Alpha to knot him through his irregular heats. Prefers quiet praise. Likes to eat fruit. What else?”

She snorts, handing him a business card. It’s simple, with just Doctor Fitzpatrick’s information and a twelve digit number. “All that and more, though some of it’s more technical. Download the app listed on the back. Use the code. Fill out the profile.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees, though he has no intention of following through. The rest of his appointment is uneventful and he leaves with yet another appointment for yet another doctor to take an extra close look at yet another part of his body. 

Harry forgets about the business card, slipping it into the pocket of his suit jacket before hurrying back to work. That evening, he finds the card while emptying his pockets. Standing in his closet, he looks down at the card. Front and back. The last thing he wants to do is answer a hundred plus questions about his heat. Though he supposes he could just take a look at the app… see what kind of questions they ask. Maybe there’s more information on how exactly they determine matches. 

After his shower, Harry climbs into bed with his tea and his phone to take a look to see if there’s any information. He gives up reading it a few minutes in. It all sounds scientific, but the words blur together in front of his eyes. The first few questions are easily answered. Name, birthday, and so on. They don’t even ask for a picture. 

He hesitates over the age of his potential matches. Richard is ten years older, and Harry wouldn’t want anyone much older than sixty… He finally settles the age range from ten years younger to ten years older than his own fifty years. Forty to sixty. Not that he expects to find a forty-year-old who’s interested in helping him through his heat. Especially not with an irregular cycle. Harry laughs as he fills out the rest of the profile with a little more candor. There’s no way they’ll match him with _anyone._

He finishes filling out the profile while watching his DVD of the first season of _Friends_ for the millionth time. When he finishes and saves it, he finds that he was right. The screen says plainly, No Matches Found. And it’s not like a dating app. There’s no one to swipe. He deletes the app. By the time his alarm wakes him up the next morning at five, he’s forgotten all about it. 


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks later, Harry receives an email alerting him to a message in his inbox on the matching app. He has to download the app again to access it, but he’s curious enough to do so. As soon as he logs on, there’s a little red numeral one in the bottom right corner above the message icon, and at the top of the screen it says ‘Matches:’ and under that it says ‘LT-’ followed by a series of numbers that Harry doesn’t look at long enough to read. He clicks the profile, but all it says is ‘Five Star Rating’ and ‘Match’ and below that is a link to ‘Say Hello To Your Match’ which Harry quickly closes. The little red one on his inbox reveals a simple short message:

_Hi, H,_

_I assume your name starts with H because mine starts with L like my profile number. My name’s Louis. It’s pronounced the French way, though I am not at all French :) I reactivated my profile and you popped up and here we are. I’m hoping you’ll keep me in mind for your next heat. I’m not due for rut until June, so we obviously have time to think and talk about that if you’re happy with how we spend your heat. If we spend your heat, I should say. I’m getting a little ahead of myself, but I didn't expect to find a new match when I logged on. Plus, I just finished rut. My apologies if I come on a little strong. Let me know if you’re interested and we can exchange phone numbers. It’s always weird messaging through this app._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_Louis_

There’s no other information about this Louis person. Harry deletes the app again. It’s far too odd to consider sleeping with a complete stranger _just_ to get through heat. He repeats those words to himself. 

A week later, there’s a reminder email. He hasn’t responded to the message in his inbox. He ignores it until he has a hot flash a week or so after that, and panics, thinking his heat is starting. When it doesn’t, and the hot flash passes, Harry downloads the app again, opens the message, and responds:

_The H is for Harry. It seems like you’ve done this before. I have not. I’ve been divorced for less than a year. Previously, I’ve only ever spent my heat with my ex-husband. I’m looking for someone to get me through it, that’s all. Solo heats at fifty are not easy or enjoyable. I’m doing this at the advice of my doctor, because my most recent heats have been irregular and have taken a lot out of me. I’ve had less than twenty-four hours notice with each one. If you’re interested, my number is…_

Louis texts him that night. They agree to meet up at ten the next morning for coffee. Harry gets up and runs three miles, showers, and eats breakfast. He works for two hours before walking to the Starbucks around the corner from his office. Halfway there, he gets a text from Louis that says he’s wearing a grey blazer and dark blue jeans, and Harry realizes as he responds that he’s dressed in his navy blue suit. Possibly the least _Omega_ thing he could wear. He slows his stride, trying to fix his hair without looking at it, and almost walks past the Starbucks entrance. 

He planned to get there early, but as he looks through the glass door at the delicate ankles, dark jeans, and wide stance of the man in the grey jacket at the back of the line, he knows he’s not early enough. His clothes make him seem on the younger side of Harry’s preferred age range, but that’s not a bad thing. It might be a little weird though. Maybe he’s a sexy, young professor. Harry shakes his head and pushes the door open, forcing himself to cross the room and join the line behind the man he hopes is Louis. He’s not sure what to say, whether to tap him on the shoulder or just stand there until Louis notices.

He’s saved from having to make a decision when the line moves forward and, after he stops again, Louis turns around, looks him up and down, and says, “Oh! Are you Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry says, the word taking ages to get past his lips. Louis is… Louis is _young,_ and so handsome, and… Maybe it’s a mistake. “You’re Louis?” Louis nods, reaching to shake Harry's hand, which dwarfs his. As soon as Louis lets go, Harry links his fingers behind his back. 

Louis slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks onto his heels. He’s absolutely beautiful, far too young, and way out of Harry’s league. 

Harry sighs and says, “I’m sorry. You must be so disappointed.”

Frowning, Louis scratches a perfectly arched eyebrow with the side of his thumb. He opens his mouth to speak, but the barista interrupts, and Louis steps forward to place his order. Glancing back at Harry, Louis waves him forward and says, “Whatever this gentleman will have. And I’ll have a tall caramel latte.”

The way Louis orders makes Harry feel like it’s impossible to say no, so he quickly says, “I’ll have the same.” 

While he waits at the far end of the counter for their drinks, Harry searches for the words to explain or to properly... bow out. 

“Come sit?” Louis nudges Harry's arm with his elbow and lifts the two cups in his hands, passing one to Harry. Harry finds himself following without thinking, and even when he realizes what he’s doing, he doesn’t stop until he’s sitting across from Louis at a table in the corner by the door. “Why am I supposed to be disappointed?” Louis asks, prying the top off his coffee. 

Harry watches as he uses the coffee stirrer to poke the whip cream floating on his latte. He folds his hands in his lap, and while Louis is distracted by his coffee, Harry drinks him in. Eyes locked on the glint of auburn in Louis’ hair, Harry says, “I’m older than you expected.”

“You’re fifty, right? You said in your message.”

“Oh… Yeah.” 

“Then we’re good,” Louis says, sipping his coffee and getting a little whipped cream in his mustache. 

“We’re good?” When Louis nods, Harry asks, because he must’ve _just barely_ turned forty to match with Harry. “How old are _you?”_

“Twenty-eight,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows and then smiling at Harry over the top of his whipped cream covered coffee. 

Harry nods, but only once and only because he can’t think of anything else to do, and he can’t think of a thing to say other than to parrot Louis’ words back to him. He doesn’t want to do that. But then he does it anyway. “Twenty-eight.” 

He thinks _twenty-two years older,_ but also that his daughter Jane is twenty-two. He’s not sure what that even means when he puts it in a sentence together, but he doesn’t like it. His hands tremble as he loosens the scarf around his neck, uncovering the slight discoloration of his skin that used to be his bondmark. He sheds his coat as well; there’s no point in hiding his discomfort when he knows Louis is aware of it. Though hopefully he can’t smell it because Harry can’t smell himself through his scent neutralizers. 

“I’m sorry. Excuse me a second,” Louis says, and stands up, leaving Harry alone at the table. He hurries up to the counter, grabs a bottle of water from the cooler up front, and passes the barista some cash, not waiting for his change. Sliding into the chair across from him, Louis twists the cap off the bottle and passes it to Harry, who drinks the cold water gratefully. “Did you think I was older? Younger?”

“Older!” Harry groans quietly. “You’re supposed to be forty.”

“Why would I be forty?”

“Why would a twenty-eight year old be a match for me?” Harry gulps cold water, beginning to feel a little bit better. “I set my age range from ten years younger than me, to ten years older.”

“You okay?” Louis asks, reaching for the water bottle and setting it on the table. He takes Harry’s hand in his and rubs his thumb over Harry’s knuckles. 

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out, pulling his hand away from Louis and searching his pockets for his phone. Right there in the settings section of the profile, is Harry’s mistake. 

Birth Year Range: 1959 - 2079

He shows Louis, who sighs and says, “I’m sorry, um… I’m sorry _you’re_ disappointed. Because I’m not.”

“You can’t be serious.” Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Why can’t I?” Louis asks, resting his forearms on the table and leaning in to catch Harry’s eye. “Your settings were messed up, not mine. I…” Tipping his chin up slightly, Louis rushes out, “I think you’re gorgeous. Just… Your eyes are…” Louis stops and frowns. “What?”

“Twenty-eight,” Harry says, narrowing his eyes. “You have a thing for older men? Older Omegas?” 

Louis nods. “Not a _thing,_ really. It’s more like… I enjoy taking care of an Omega in heat. It’s one of my favorite things to do. And I— I’ve done it for Os my own age or whatever, but…” Lifting his eyebrows, Harry sits back, and immediately relaxes his forehead. He doesn’t need to look any older than he is. Harry stares at Louis’ beard while he rubs his chin, and Louis huffs before continuing, “I _do_ like older men. Older Omegas, especially. But I like Os closer to my own age as well, so…”

“And do you… You do this often?” 

“Not really. I don’t match everyone, and eventually people move on, find relationships, or whatever else. I don’t do this when I’m dating someone. I think I said, I reactivated my account and saw our match. I hadn't been on in months. I’d been dating… Well, it doesn’t matter now. But, I guess my point is, no. I don’t do this often, but I’ve done it before.”

Harry takes in his earnest expression, spending too long trying to place the blue of his eyes. He lifts his cup to his lips and finds that it’s almost empty—only a sweet bit of whipped cream at the bottom. 

They don’t agree to anything, but they stay and talk for a little while. The hour that Harry set aside for this meeting passes quickly, and when they leave, half of Harry’s mind is on work, the other half on the condo he wants to buy. He puts Louis from his thoughts.

▓▓▓

Though he’d rather not do the actual work of packing, Harry finds that he’s too anxious to let others do it for him. He hasn’t moved in over twenty years. They’ve lived in the same house since just after Harry came home from the hospital with Charlotte. And he’s going from this ridiculous, too-big, ostentatious house, to a two-bedroom condo. Harry stubs his toe on the heavy wooden chest of drawers across from his bed, and decides he doesn’t want any of the old furniture, especially not the bed his cheating husband slept in. He can’t believe he’s continued to sleep on that mattress for the past year. Harry shudders and shakes his head. Perhaps he can enlist his daughters in helping him furnish his new condo. 

Harry does look at other places: a few houses, a rental apartment or two, and even a loft downtown, but he knew when he first saw the condo, which he preferred. He signs the paperwork to buy the condo at his lawyer’s office, conveniently next door to his own office. As soon as he does that, he takes the keys and drives over. He hasn’t planned to work much today, figuring he’d be much too excited about the new condo, and is dressed down a bit, in his wide leg brown trousers, cream shirt, and plaid sweater vest. It’s what his kids call his ‘law librarian look’ though he’s never seen a law librarian dressed similarly. 

In all the times that Harry’s driven by the new building, or even the times he’s stopped or been up to see the condo, he’s not walked around the neighborhood. He can see most everything from his car, but pockets his keys and takes off walking away from it when he hits the sidewalk. It’s warm out and he wants to enjoy the weather for once.

He steps across the street to the park where there are no buildings blocking the sun, and shoves his hands in his pockets, thankful for his dark sunglasses. It’s a lovely park, and as Harry watches the smaller children being pushed on the swings, he realizes that, if any of his kids decide to bless him with grandchildren, he’ll probably bring them to this playground. Push them on those swings. Guide them up the steps and down the slide. He thinks about the grandchildren he may or may not have in the future, and his ex-husband, and whether he’ll be a better grandfather than he is a father. He wonders whether or not he should apologize to his children. He’s not sure exactly what for, but he thinks the answer is yes.

Looking up at a movement in his peripheral vision, Harry stops short at the sight of a skateboarder just a few feet away, coming right at him. The guy jumps off, kicks the board up and grabs it, and way too late, Harry recognizes Louis. 

“Harry. Hey,” Louis says, lifting his snapback slightly off his forehead and pushing his damp hair underneath his hat. “How’ve you been?”

“Well, um…” Harry swallows and takes a step back to clear his head. Louis’ sweat and the sunshine are a powerful combination. In an effort to avoid inhaling any more of Louis’ heady scent, Harry backs up a bit more. “Was just out for a walk. Have to head back to work now.”

“Oh, right. Well…” Louis lifts a hand as Harry starts to walk away, and calls out, “You have my number!”


	3. Chapter 3

Despite owning the condo, Harry doesn’t move in right away. He’s busy at work, and he wants to at least have his bedroom and the living room furnished before he moves in. Char does a lot of waiting for deliveries for him, and he pays her far too much for the job, but he can’t expect Niall to do it. Still, he’s stuck at the old house, surrounded by boxes. It’s almost like he’s afraid to make the leap, but he’s promised himself that the second his new mattress is delivered, he’s staying the night at the condo. He’s already got sheets and bedding over there, waiting. 

When he doesn’t feel like running at five in the morning, Harry swims instead. He spends forty-five minutes swimming laps, not at all gracefully. And then he stretches in the hot tub afterward. Harry always takes an extra long shower at the gym, afraid of smelling like chlorine all day. 

Wednesday morning, he steps out of the shower, one towel wrapped around his hair, one around his waist. He feels a little lightheaded, which happens sometimes, so he hangs his towels again and steps back under lukewarm water instead. Slowly, he turns the knob until the water is cool against his skin, but not cold enough to make him shiver. He dries his hair and gets dressed and immediately takes his suit jacket off. As soon as he walks into his office, he tells Niall he’ll be on heat leave through the following Tuesday. 

“Anything else I can do for you, boss, let me know,” Niall says and Harry shakes his head. 

In his office with the door shut, he pulls out his phone. When he was married, the second he felt his heat coming on, he’d call his ex-husband to let him know. It was more routine than anything. Richard didn’t do anything to prepare. The calls were nothing more than a warning. Harry was the one who arranged childcare when the girls were small, rearranged their calendars, and planned everything, it was the same for Richard’s rut, too. Harry planned everything, even the conception of their children, and stayed on birth control the rest of the time. When his youngest was delivered by Caesarian, Harry had his tubes tied. 

Harry looks at Richard’s number in his phone. He’s listed as Ass Hole and it makes Harry snicker. The Heat Spa’s number isn’t saved in his phone, but he finds it easily enough. They answer, but immediately put him on hold. The message says he can register online, so he decides to do it from his laptop at his desk. 

His phone rings and Harry spends the next few hours working. Around lunchtime, Harry loosens his tie even more and as he wiggles slightly in his chair, his entire body pulses with want. He calls The Heat Spa and they answer without putting him on hold this time. 

“How… How much notice do you need to check in as an Omega in heat alone?”

“The Omega’s temperature, taken by mouth, must be less than one hundred degrees Fahren—” 

Harry hangs up and fumbles through his top drawer for his thermometer. He makes himself stay perfectly still with the tip of it under his tongue. Ninety-nine degrees. He sits there at his desk, one leg shaking back and forth nervously. He probably has about six hours to get there and check in. If that’s what he wants to do. 

It takes him far too long to decide to text Louis a simple two-letter word.

Louis  
  
**Harry:** Hi.  
  
**Louis:** Hello, darling.  
  
**Louis** Do you want to talk or did you need me?  
  
  


“Jesus Christ,” Harry mutters, texting back fast enough that he’d be embarrassed about it, if Louis hadn't responded as quickly. 

Louis  
  
**Harry:** Both.  
  
**Louis:** Good.  
  
**Louis:** Are you in heat?  
**Harry:** Not now, but soon. I’m sorry if you’re busy. Don’t feel obligated or anything, please. Feel free to say no.   
  
**Louis:** Do you know your temp?  
  
**Harry:** 99  
  
**Louis:** Send me the address where you want to spend your heat. I’ll meet you there at 4. Ok?   
  
**Harry:** Yes.  
  
**Harry:** Thank you.  
  
**Louis:** Welcome. See you soon.  
  
  


After he sends his address to Louis, Harry goes to the bathroom attached to his office. The cold water out of the faucet is closer to warm, but he lets it run over his wrists and closes his eyes. He feels like he should be ashamed of himself, and his mind starts to veer down the path of ‘what would my children think?’ Then he remembers that he never worried about that when he was sleeping with his ex-husband, and it’s really none of their business. 

Harry spends the next hour or so getting things set to be on hold or handled by Niall, and then he heads home. All he wants to do is cool off, so he takes a quick shower with his favorite peppermint soap, then fills the tub with cold water. It helps, but he wishes he thought to use bubbles so he didn’t have to look at himself. It’ll be dark or dim in the bedroom—thank goodness for room darkening shades—so maybe Louis won’t notice his scars and stretch marks. Harry pinches the inside of his wrist and instead of waking him up, like he intended, it sends a shock of desire straight to his groin. Even his thighs feel hot.

When he’s gone through his closet inside his head and finally decided what to wear, Harry washes once more, thoroughly, and wraps himself in a towel. He listens to Simon & Garfunkel and laughs as he dances to songs from _The Graduate,_ though he doesn’t think Louis would get the reference. He hasn’t _dressed_ for his heat in probably ten years, if not more. And he’s pretty sure he took off whatever he wore before Richard got there that night. 

Carefully, Harry steps into a pair of loose, black linen pants. It’s torture buttoning his shirt up, and he leaves the top two undone, but when he sees himself in the mirror, he unbuttons another one, then buttons it again. He’s too nervous to show so much skin. Harry laughs as he shakes his hair out; he doesn't want to show his nipples, but he knows he’ll be begging for Louis’ knot in a few hours. 

“Oh my God,” Harry whispers aloud to himself as he lights the unscented candle on his chest of drawers. He can smell himself, now that he’s clean and no longer wearing scent neutralizers. The grey at his temples is less noticeable in the candlelight, but his hairline looks the same. Harry sighs. His legs tremble as he walks to the kitchen to have a glass of water and take his temperature. Ninety-nine point eight. 

He reconsiders taking the lucidity meds. Beside his most recent heat spent alone, the only other time he’s taken them was the heat during which he and Richard planned to, and did, conceive their youngest daughter. Harry wanted to remember it. Heaven only knows why. Begging to be knotted and knocked up. Pleading for his ex to breed him, and then crying— _sobbing—_ his thanks when he agreed. Richard knotted him and Harry fell asleep. It wasn’t perfect, but such is life. In all their years together, his heat and Richard’s rut were never completely in sync. The heat at the spa was equally embarrassing in a different way. There’s no need for him to have three such memories. Though he does wonder what it’ll be like with Louis. It’s best not to be too curious. 

When the doorbell rings, Harry’s stomach threatens to empty itself. By the time he reaches for the doorknob, it’s as settled as he can convince it to be. 

It’s funny how they can both dress all in black, yet look so different. Harry tries to take in as much of Louis as he can at once, looking him up and down, eyes catching on the bulge in his sweatpants. It’s a testament to how close his heat is that he thinks about ease of access and hopes Louis isn’t wearing underwear with his loose fitting sweats.

Louis stuffs both hands in the front pocket of his hoodie and clears his throat. He looks younger than twenty-eight. That thought makes Harry wonder what twenty-eight looks like. He frowns and Louis asks, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Harry steps back, opening the door wide. “Come in. Sorry.”

“No problem,” Louis says, lifting his wrist to lay it against Harry's forehead. Involuntarily, Harry sniffs him, but Louis either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care to acknowledge it. “Do you know what you want me to do?”

Harry’s face flames and he pulls his shirt away from his chest, fanning himself. 

Louis tries again. “What do you like to eat during—”

“I have a fridge. In my bedroom.”

Louis sputters a laugh. “Okay, but what do you like?”

“Sorry. Sorry, um… Fruit, usually. Yogurt. Water. That’s what I have.” Those are the easiest foods for him to subsist on. “Maybe tea if I seem tired?” 

“Okay,” Louis says, and Harry watches him. “Show me where to go, babe.”

Harry takes him through the kitchen, in case Louis wants something. And he’s glad he did when Louis grabs a jar of peanut butter off the pantry shelf. He shows him to the spoons and Louis takes his time. Harry wonders if he’s stalling. 

“Do you want to give me any…” Louis holds a spoon aloft and taps the top of the jar. “Guidelines? Likes? Dislikes?” 

Harry shakes his head. “I just want… I want you to… use your instincts. Take care of me.” Closing his eyes tight, Harry pushes the words out. “Knot me. Feed me. Whatever you’re… Anything you’re willing to do.” 

“Kissing?” Louis asks, and Harry nods. 

“Kiss me, touch me, scent me, but…” Harry looks around the kitchen. He doesn’t want to have to _show_ Louis to the bedroom. He just wants to be there already. “I don't want to have to think until my heat ends, starting right this second.”

“Okay,” Louis says. He crosses the kitchen to stand inches from Harry. “Do something for me?” 

Harry nods and Louis lifts his hand, cupping Harry’s jaw. While Harry holds perfectly still, Louis leans closer and drags his lips over Harry's neck, up to the hinge of his jaw and back down to lick over the faded mark. This close, his scent is richer, washing over Harry, calming him. 

“Your scent. Do you mask it? I don’t…” Louis presses kisses under his jaw. 

“Yeah, yeah. I do. Not wearing neutralizers now though,” Harry says, tipping his chin up. 

Louis tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair and pulls himself away. Desperate to feel the scratch of Louis’ beard, Harry chases after him without thinking, and Louis grins, giving in easily and taking Harry’s lips in a kiss. He hums and guides Harry closer by the waist, pressing their bodies together, gently rolling his hips. 

“Go to the bedroom,” Louis says, sliding his hand over Harry's soft shirt where it’s tucked into the waistband of his trousers. “Strip the blankets off the bed. We only need a sheet. And get some towels. I’ll be there in a minute. Okay?”

Harry nods and does as he’s told, and pees for good measure. There’s a new box of Alpha condoms on the bedside table and he moves it to sit next to the stack of folded towels. Then he moves the box back to the bedside table, finally dropping it into a drawer. They’re not necessary with Harry’s permanent birth control and the recent test results they sent each other after their first meeting. Harry unbuttons his shirt, spinning around when he hears Louis’ hum of approval. 

“No more thinking?” Louis asks and Harry nods, turning slowly as Louis walks around the bed. 

Louis pinches the fabric at the hem of Harry’s shirt and Harry gasps quietly as it slips off his shoulders. He looks from the piercing blue of Louis’ eyes to the soft, heavy sweatshirt draping his torso, wishing he could see more of Louis’ skin.

“Yeah, hold on,” Louis says, stepping back and yanking his hoodie over his head. His hair stands up and he combs it out with his fingers only to mess it up again when he tugs his t-shirt off. Harry can’t help but stare. And when he sees Louis’ pert nipples, slender frame, the muscles of his arms and chest and stomach… Harry can’t help but compare. 

Louis lays his warm palm flat on the center of Harry’s chest and steps so close that Harry feels tall, looking down at him. 

“Love how puffy your nipples are,” Louis says, sliding his hand over and tracing circles around the areola. Even as he pushes into the sensation, Harry tries to make himself pull away. His husband stopped playing with his nipples when he got pregnant the first time, not that he touched them often before, and Harry’s never… He’s never really enjoyed masturbation. It’s always left him feeling a little lost and morose afterward. And he’s always worried so much about being caught, it makes it difficult. Louis gently pinches Harry’s nipple again. “Sensitive. What about here?” 

Slowly, Louis traces Harry’s silhouette with his hands, reaching around to palm Harry’s ass through the loose linen fabric of his pants. Harry grunts and digs his fingers into Louis’ hips, grabbing at his sweatpants, cheeks burning at his shamelessness. Louis makes quick work of Harry’s linen pants; God bless a drawstring. He flushes even hotter when he’s reminded that he’s naked underneath. 

“You alright?” Louis asks, voice low, and Harry shivers. 

His body temperature’s still rising, but he’s hot enough now that he feels cold. His sweat evaporates before it can bead on his overheated skin, and he’s thirsty. Louis cups his face in one hand and Harry sways towards the touch, closing his eyes, breathing in the swirl of their scents mixing. 

Louis’ other hand is cool where it rests on Harry’s hip, and Harry wants Louis to touch him everywhere. As Harry thinks it, Louis sweeps his hand up his side and over his ribs. He thumbs at Harry’s nipple just long enough for Harry to want more, sliding his palm around to Harry’s back, where he rubs small circles at the base of his spine. Every muscle in Harry’s body slackens slightly, and a quiet moan slips past his lips as he relaxes forward, right into a kiss. 

Tipping his head, Louis pulls Harry tight against him, mouths brushing together as he says, “Get on the bed. Want you to have some water.”

Harry sits at the edge of the mattress, looking at the curtains on the window, frowning until Louis brushes his hair from his forehead, tipping Harry’s chin up so he has to look at him. He takes Harry’s hand and wraps it around a water bottle, helping him drink until he finishes it. 

“Lay back on the pillows, Harry. Want to see your pretty cock.”

“Oh… Okay,” Harry says, clumsily situating himself closer to the headboard. His mind feels sluggish, but not as bad as it’ll be soon. Everything is unfamiliar, even though he knows this bed and this room and this man. Louis. 

From head to toe, Harry’s skin feels like it might burst into flames, more from embarrassment than hormones, but he looks up at the ceiling, closes his eyes, and reminds himself that Louis _wants_ to help him through his heat. Harry starts to roll over onto his stomach, but Louis stops him, gripping his thighs. At least his blushes are hidden by his already flushed skin.

Louis urges Harry to lift his hips and puts a towel beneath him, then helps Harry bend his knees and plant his feet on the mattress, crawling between his legs to lean down and suck one of Harry’s nipples between his lips. Arching into the touch, Harry wants more of Louis’ mouth, even as his cheeks burn with the embarrassing knowledge of what will happen if he keeps it up. With his hands to either side of Louis’ face, Harry guides him to his other nipple, body jerking as Louis’ knuckles brush the underside of his dick. He can feel Louis’ grin when he wraps his hand around it. 

Propping himself up with one arm, Louis dips down for a kiss while he slowly strokes him, thumbing over the head. He barely pulls away, just far enough that his beard and mustache scratch Harry’s lips as he talks. “Love your dick. Big for an Omega.”

“I…” Harry ducks his head, hiding his face against Louis’ neck and inhaling deeply. “I know.”

“You ever top?” Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head, burrowing his nose into Louis’ skin. “That’s fine. Was thinking of riding you if you get…” 

Shaking his head again, Harry groans, fucking into Louis’ hand. He manages to croak out, “No.”

“Okay, baby.” Louis releases his cock and settles his weight between Harry’s legs. The pressure against his dick makes his hips buck uncontrollably. Louis kisses his lips, his chin, the hollow of his throat, and sits up a bit. “Want to get you off with my mouth first, if that’s okay.” 

All Harry can do is nod. 

Louis trails kisses over his stomach and Harry stills, sucking in and tightening his abs until Louis nips at his love handle and surprises a laugh out of him. The tips of Louis’ fingers brush over the skin of his thigh, slipping in the wetness between his legs. 

One finger slides inside easily and Louis hardly waits before making it two. He takes Harry’s dick into his mouth, and reaches up, pinching and twisting his nipple. He’s barely sucked on the head when Harry’s entire abdomen cramps with the force of his first orgasm. 

▓▓▓

He wakes out of his heat a little more than forty-eight hours later, standing in his shower, face tucked into Louis’ neck, breathing in his scent, while Louis fingers him clean. 

“You’re back, hmm?” Louis asks, plunging his fingers in and out of Harry’s body, jerking him slowly with his other hand, letting the water wash everything away. Harry nods, whining and chasing Louis’ fingers when he tries to pull them free. “Okay. Shh…” 

Louis strokes him faster, holding him close, bringing him off so effortlessly that Harry’s mouth falls open as he comes, clenching around Louis fingers, dripping over his fist. 

“Thank you,” Harry mutters when Louis slips his fingers out, petting over his rim. 

“Hush,” Louis whispers, sucking Harry’s lip into his mouth. Barely able to stand on his own, Harry tries to reciprocate, working Louis’ knot with his hands while Louis jerks himself off. He squeezes Harry’s ass, making him stand up straight, and when the tip of Louis’ middle finger catches his rim, Harry forces himself down on it with a whine. 

Louis gasps, knot swelling in Harry’s hands as he helps him through his orgasm, though his knot doesn’t last long this close to the end of Harry’s heat. When Louis finishes, they cling to each other in the shower, and neither of them seem able to stand alone. Sated, clean, and exhausted, they work together to put new sheets on the bed. 

Still foggy, but more and more aware of his surroundings, Harry climbs on the bed, sprawling on his stomach. He asks, “Is it Monday?”

“Saturday,” Louis says, tucking himself into Harry’s side. He runs the palm of his hand over Harry’s back, following the path of his spine, resting his hand at the bottom. “Think you’re clear of it. If you need me, I’ll wake up.”

“Saturday,” Harry says. 

“Go to sleep,” Louis says, pressing a kiss to Harry’s shoulder blade. 

▓▓▓

Harry wakes Sunday morning and clambers out of bed, throwing his robe over his naked body. He brushes his teeth and washes his face and goes to the kitchen to start coffee and see what he can make for breakfast. In all of his planning, he didn’t think of that. 

His heat is long gone and by the time Louis is up and dressed, Harry’s already cycled through a thousand different levels of humiliation. He’s back to ‘This is nothing new. Louis has done this before.’ 

“Hi, um…” Louis waves at him, pink cheeked and back in the same black sweats he showed up in. He looks at the kitchen counter, at the coffee and bagels and says, “Oh, cool. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Harry says, hiding the irritated skin around his mouth behind his coffee cup. Louis’ beard left him sore and chapped in more than one place. 

“So, um… My rut? It’s in June.” Louis takes a bite of bagel and Harry watches him chew. 

“I’m not… I’m not saying no. I’m just a little nervous about rut, to be honest.”

“Understandable,” Louis says. “What about your next heat?”

Harry takes a second. He hadn’t expected Louis to be interested, especially without the promise of a rut trade off. “Could be June or July. Sorry. I wish I could tell you more. It’s just been so irregular.”

“We’re good. Promise. Let me know if you decide you’re up for riding out my rut with me.” Louis stirs a cup of coffee and Harry wonders how sweet he takes it. He wasn’t paying attention as he added sugar. “Definitely, definitely let me know if you want me around for your next heat. Like, even short notice is okay.” 

“I will,” Harry says, tightening his robe around his waist. 

After they eat, Louis quietly washes the dishes. He slings his backpack on, and rests both hands on Harry’s shoulders, rubbing down the outsides of his arms. Harry sways towards him, closing his eyes. It’s the first time Louis has touched him since he got out of bed. 

“Sorry,” Louis says. “Just need to…” He pulls Harry close and scents him, tightening his grip on Harry’s arms. As he pulls away, he says, “You have my number.” 

“Yeah,” Harry says. 

Louis ducks his head, then lifts up on his toes and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “I had a good time, Harry.” 

Nodding slowly, Harry watches Louis back out of the room. He follows behind a moment later, staying out of sight, listening as he opens the front door and steps outside. When he hears the heavy door swing closed again, Harry leans against the wall, breathing deeply. Louis might be gone, but his scent lingers. 

Marginally less humiliating than the spa. At least Louis was the only one there to see him desperate and out of control. 

“Oh my God,” he whispers, though there’s no one to hear him. “Oh my God.”


	4. Chapter 4

Eventually, Harry does let some other people help him pack. His children hire movers and after he marks the things that are coming with him, Harry gets out of the way. He lets the movers take care of everything except his suitcase, which he insists on carrying himself. There’s nothing in the suitcase other than his solo heat supplies, but those are no one’s business.

There’s a lot less fanfare to moving into his condo than Harry thought there’d be. His apartment is virtually empty when he first moves in. The only piece of furniture he ordered was a big, wide bed. 

But as he thought would happen, his daughters took one look at the place, and dragged him out to go shopping. Within a few days, he’s started to fill the apartment with things he choses, that have nothing to do with his ex-husband. The entire place is his and nothing says ‘moving on’ louder. He hopes the girls tell their father. 

“Dad, how do you want the housewarming?” Jane asks, sipping sparkling water while Elizabeth directs the placement of a dining table. 

After his birthday, Harry isn’t interested in anything big. Huffing quietly, he says, “We’ll do something small here. Your grandmother will come. Gemma and Zoe.”

“Niall,” Char suggests.

“Yeah,” Jane says, but Harry shakes his head.

“That’s like work for him, guys. Don’t make him come,” Harry says, voice firm. 

“Then, it’s just us and three other people,” Jane says. “We should call it an unpacking party and have them over now.”

“Wine and cheese,” Char says, “But also, chicken wings and beer.” 

“You're not even old enough to drink, Charlotte.” Harry waves his hands and says, “But yes. That all sounds good. A small get together. Family. An unpacking party. Not tonight, of course. I’ll think about it and let you know, but soon.”

Harry has a few weeks of long, long days. He’s so tired one night, he almost sleeps at the office, but then he remembers how much closer his condo is than his old house, and heads home. When he sees the light at the end of the tunnel, he opens his group chat with his daughters and tells them to go ahead and plan the party. He emphasizes that they’re _only_ to invite family. Poor Niall has enough to do without feeling obligated to attend a housewarming that’s really nothing more than Harry unpacking what’s left of his things. 

▓▓▓

“We’ve gotten everything on the list. I do need some coffee, though.” Harry double checks the list to be sure, steering the grocery cart with one hand while Char rattles off the names of the items in the cart. In his peripheral vision, he sees another cart and moves to the side. As it passes them going the other way, Harry glances up, looking back at his phone immediately and quickening his pace. He rounds the corner of the coffee aisle, finally taking a breath. 

“You’ve been taking your time all morning. Now you’re in a rush?” Char asks, reaching for Harry’s preferred brand of coffee and dropping it in the cart. He didn’t even see it on the shelf, though he’s standing right in front of it. 

“No, just… Let’s go,” Harry says, heading towards the front of the store. If they hurry, maybe they won’t be seen.

Char takes control of the grocery cart, speeding down the coffee aisle; Harry rolls his eyes and hurries after her. The party is really only a few hours away, when he thinks about everything he still needs to do. There are still boxes to be repacked so that everyone has something to unpack and there aren’t any surprises. 

Harry’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and while Char loads the groceries onto the conveyor belt, he checks his phone. 

Louis  
  
**Louis:** Hey! Don’t want to freak you out, but I think you’re in my grocery store? Wanted to say hello, but didn’t want to bother you  
  
  


To his credit, Harry doesn’t drop the container of blueberries he’s holding. He carefully sets them down and looks up to find Louis watching him from the checkout three lanes away. Louis raises his eyebrows and winks so fast that Harry’s isn’t sure if that’s what it was or if he maybe has something in his eye. Quickly, Harry texts him back.

Louis  
  
**Harry:** You can say hello. I’m with my daughter Charlotte.  
  
  


As soon as Harry sends the text, Louis is on his way over, shopping bags in his hands. He stands at the end where Char is already paying—with Harry’s credit card. 

“Hello,” Louis says, shrugging and attempting to wave with a shopping bag in his hand. 

“Hi?” Char scowls at him and Harry snorts.

“Charlotte, this is, um…” Harry’s eyes go wide as he scrambles for a way to introduce Louis. “This is one of my new neighbors! Louis!”

Louis frowns, but it disappears as he grins and says, “Nice to meet you, Charlotte. That’s my sister’s name, but she goes by Lottie.”

“Oh, um… Cool,” Char says, taking the receipt from the cashier and thanking them. “Oh! Oh, you should come to the party!”

“Charlotte!” Harry snaps, gritting his teeth. 

“I already invited Niall and he’s bringing his boyfriend. Zoe’s bringing Alison—they’ve made up.” Char gestures to the cart full of food, drinks, and party supplies. “The more, the merrier!”

Harry’s nostrils flare as he inhales and he tries to keep his voice level. “It’s short notice, Char. Louis probably has plans.” 

“Nope,” Louis says. “Unless you count my plan to eat frozen pizza and fold laundry.”

“Good! It’s tonight.” Char pushes the cart through the automatic doors, turns to Louis and says, “Give my dad your number. He’ll text you the details.”

Louis nods and Harry steps closer, pulling out his phone. “Sorry she’s being pushy. You don’t have to come.”

“Are you faking giving me your number?” Louis smirks, taking out his own phone. 

“I’m not going to tell her I already have it,” Harry says, backing away, and speaking up for Char’s benefit. “Thanks! I’ll text you!”

“Thanks, um…” Louis waves, pocketing his phone. “I’ll see you later. Can I bring anything?”

“Just yourself!” Char calls over the top of Harry’s car. 

As soon as Louis is far enough away, Harry says, “I _cannot_ believe you.”

“He’s cute. Obviously, way too old for me, but if he’s single, maybe Elizabeth will—”

“No! Elizabeth will _not.”_ Harry makes himself take a breath. “No one is dating _any_ of my neighbors. I _just_ moved in, Charlotte. I can’t put the place on the market because Elizabeth’s ignored another boyfriend for weeks on end.”

“Fine,” Charlotte says, climbing into the driver’s seat. 

“It was bad enough when they’d come to the house and play music outside her window. Absolutely ridiculous how many idiots I had to scare off.”

▓▓▓

On the way home from the store, Harry texts Niall. He’s not about to tell him not to come, but Niall’s the only person who knows about Louis—safety first! But he also knows that Harry’s heat was over so fast, he was back to work two days early. With bells on. Thankfully, when Niall saw him that Monday morning, he was as blunt as always. Otherwise, Harry would’ve been walking around for God knows how long with a dreamy expression and mismatched shoes. And that was a full twenty-four hours after Louis left. 

The rest of the day goes by quickly. Too much to do and an unfamiliar apartment to do it in. The kitchen is laid out completely different from his old house and he’s spun around looking for the fridge too many times. Before he showers, Harry moves the boxes that he hasn’t gotten around to unpacking into his bedroom and hides them in the closet. The boxes left out in the living room are ones he’s curated the contents of, somewhat. 

Knowing that Louis will be there changes Harry’s entire outlook on the party and he worries it’s obvious, so he takes extra care applying his scent neutralizers after his shower. Standing in his new closet, looking at his clothes, Harry decides to cancel the party. 

Peeking out of his bedroom, Harry shouts towards the living room, “Char?”

“In the kitchen! Niall’s here!” she yells back. 

“Oh! Send him back here!” Harry checks that his robe is closed and fully opens the door, pulling Niall into his bedroom. “Thank God you’re here.”

Niall narrows his eyes and says, “Thought you didn’t want me to come?”

“I didn’t! I’m sorry!” Harry lowers his voice and says, “I told you Louis, the Alpha from… Well, from me… Anyway, I told you all of that already!”

“Yes?”

“Yes! And no one knows anything but you! And I…” Harry finishes with a whisper, “I don’t know what to wear.”

Niall laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve worked for you for more than a decade, and I’ve never seen you like this. It’s weird… Are you alright?”

“No,” Harry says, voice flat. “Far from it.”

“Well, what were you planning to wear before?” 

“The usual.”

“Sweater vest? Wide leg trousers?” Niall asks and Harry nods. “Then just… wear that.”

“You’re sure? Maybe I should wear Spanx. Do the high waist trousers make me look too broad?”

“Harry…” Niall frowns. “You’re not interested in Louis, right?”

“God, no!” Harry cackles and slaps his knee, robe swinging open. He pulls it tight around him. “No, I… If he’s able, I’ll probably, um… spend my next heat with him. Just because it… Well, it makes sense to—”

“Harry, it doesn’t matter. Look, I know our lives are very different, but I also know that you…” Niall sighs, rubbing his brow. “You’ve spent a lot of your life _doing_ for other people. You don’t… You don’t owe anyone an explanation about your heat, Louis, or anything. Just like, when people start asking if you’re looking for a new Alpha, or if you’re going to start dating, you don’t owe them answers.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers. It’s good to know he has Niall in his corner. “I still don’t know what to wear though.”

Niall laughs, and says, “Wear the navy pinstripe pants and the blue sweater vest with the sheep. It’s cute, people always comment on the sweater, and Louis has blue eyes, right?”

“Yes— Wait. I told you that?” Harry feels his cheeks start to heat up and he loosens his robe where he’s wrapped it up to his neck. 

“Nah. Figured I’d guess.” Niall opens the bedroom door and says, “Get dressed.”

As soon as Niall closes the door, Harry locks it and throws his robe on his bed. Before he struggles into his minimizer, he reapplies his scent neutralizers, just in case. Niall was right, of course. He often is. One day, he’ll finish law school and pass the bar and they can continue to work together. Hopefully. 

He hasn’t mentioned going back to school in a while, actually. 

It’s difficult to walk the line of being Niall’s boss. He’s worked for Harry since the girls were in elementary school. In some ways, he’s like family. Especially after the last year or so with the separation and then the divorce. 

Harry stays in his room, debating his shoe options, until Jane knocks politely to tell him that her grandmother and aunt Gemma have arrived. He slips on his pink loafers and joins everyone in the kitchen. It’s crowded with eight of them in there, and thankfully Harry is rescued by the doorbell. He doesn’t remember that the only other person they’re expecting is Louis until he opens the door.

“Louis, hello!” Harry says, as if he didn’t know exactly who was standing in the corridor. “Come in.”

“Hi, Harry.” Louis smiles, nose twitching as he purses his lips. “I wanted to talk to you before, um…”

With a quick glance back over his shoulder, Harry steps into the hall and closes his apartment door, so they’re alone. 

“Just wanted to get our stories straight, you know? I… I figured you aren’t exactly telling people you spent your heat with me.” Harry opens his mouth to protest, though Louis is quite right, but Louis cuts him off. “Which is fine! It’s totally fine. But you told your daughter we were neighbors, and I mean… I don’t think you know, um…”

Harry frowns and says, “I figured neighbors was the easiest lie to tell.”

“It’s not though.” Louis points at the floor. “I live on the second floor. I actually, um… I thought maybe you knew, but then I realized you wouldn’t send me your entire address if you did.”

“You live on the second floor?” Harry asks, though he’s positive he heard correctly. “Of this building?”

“Yeah, with my… I actually have two roommates. And I thought I should tell you that they were my, um… I told them when I spent your heat with you. They’re my friends, but also, like…” Louis bobs his head side to side. It’s endearing, despite the swirling in Harry’s stomach at the thought of anyone else knowing he spent his heat with Louis. 

“Safety,” Harry says, saving Louis from explaining further. “Niall knows too. He, um… Well, he’s my assistant, though I think I already told you about him, but he was my safety check. He’s here. Inside, anyway. Brown hair, glasses, blue eyes, grey sweater.”

“Oh. Cool.” Looking relieved, Louis raises his eyebrows. “Can I come in?”

“You should invite your roommates,” Harry says, opening the door again. “You heard my daughter. The more, the merrier.”

“Yeah, okay. I will,” Louis says, and follows him inside, phone in hand. 

While Harry panics on the inside—Louis lives in his building, which means Harry will have to rent his apartment to someone else and move—he goes directly to his mom. She has no idea what’s going on with Louis, but will provide enough of a distraction so he can try not to think about it. 

“Mom, hey,” Harry says, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Scoot. I want to sit beside you.”

She moves over to make room and holds her arms open for a hug like a reflex. “Happy housewarming.”

“Thank you.” Harry kisses her cheek again and snuggles up to her side. 

“Who’s that boy?” she asks. “The Alpha you were in the hall with?”

“Jesus,” Harry mutters. It’s what he gets for assuming no one was paying attention when Louis arrived. “He’s a neighbor from the second floor. I told him to ask his roommates to come, if they’d like.”

“How old is he? Twenty-five? Has Elizabeth met—”

“No!” Harry slaps a hand over his mouth, slowly lowering it. “Sorry. I really prefer if the girls meet their dates somewhere other than my apartment building so I can avoid any awkward interactions.” His mom nods and Harry closes his eyes for a moment. 

The housewarming is actually not a disaster. All three of his daughters and their cousin sit on the sofa together, crammed between Gemma and their grandmother, looking through photo albums. Harry discreetly removed the pictures of Richard from them before anyone arrived, and rearranged some of the photos so that nothing looked amiss. Even Louis was distracted by them, making Harry wish he’d taken some of the pictures of himself out of the albums as well. He’s hugely pregnant in a lot of them. 

Louis’ roommates—another handsome Alpha named Liam and an absolutely gorgeous Omega named Zayn—are lovely and kind and, despite Harry’s nervousness, don’t make him feel uncomfortable at all. He’s not sure what he expected, perhaps some teasing or joking around. It’s been a long time since anyone other than his partner and his doctor have known anything about his heats or his sex life. Harry sighs, remembering when he did have an active sex life, before law school. At some point it dwindled from regular sex once a week, to heats and ruts only. And even those were more like chores than making love. It’s obvious why, now. 

“Hey, Uncle Harry,” Zoe says, rubbing the swell of her pregnant belly. Harry scoots over and pats the cushion beside him until she sits. “Love this place. Alison and I looked at a one bedroom in this building. But like, way before I got knocked up.”

“God, don’t say it like that, Zoe,” Harry says, pressing his thumb into her chin dimple, the way he’s done since she was a newborn. Even as she reaches up, he smiles wide, showing his teeth, and she pokes her index fingers into the dimples in his cheeks. “You’re having a baby. And you’re in love…” Zoe drops her hands and scoffs. “Please. You and Alison are so in love, it’s wonderful to see.” 

“Maybe,” Zoe says with a small smile. She tips her head and says, “Your neighbors are all so hot. Is it like a condition for moving in here? ‘Must be smokin’ but no smoking.’”

“Oh, that’s awful. Can I keep it?” Harry scrunches his nose and drapes his arm over Zoe’s shoulder when she nods and snuggles into his side. 

“Looks like Liam and Zayn? It’s Zayn. Anyway. They’re together, obviously. And at first I thought they were with, um… Louis? Lewis? Louis?” Zoe frowns and Harry kisses her forehead. Pregnancy can do things to your brain. He remembers. He was incredibly forgetful. During his last pregnancy with Char, he forgot to pick Elizabeth up from preschool one day. He’d had to drive there in the spit-up stained pregnancy caftan he’d taken to wearing around the house, checking behind him every few seconds of the drive to make sure he’d buckled Jane into her car seat and hadn’t left her somewhere too. 

“His name is Louis,” Harry says, and Louis looks over, catching his eye as if he heard Harry’s whisper. 

“Right. Louis,” Zoe says. “So I thought they were like, poly. But I think he’s just their friend. He’s _gorgeous.”_

_“Zoe,”_ Harry says, a hint of reprimand in his tone. 

“What? I can look. I’m pregnant, not dead.”

“You’re pregnant, in a relationship, and a lesbian,” Harry states. 

“Still. He’s beautiful. Maybe Elizabeth will snap him up.”

“He’s gay,” Harry says, and instantly regrets it. That’s not his to tell.

“Well, then, you should snap him up.” With a snap of her fingers, Zoe laughs and says, “You need a younger man to keep up with you.”

“Shh,” Harry hisses through clenched teeth. “You make me sound ancient. And I don’t need to snap up anyone.” 

“Whatever you say, Uncle H.” Zoe grips his thigh and Harry helps her up instinctively. “Gotta pee. Again.”

It’s less uncomfortable having Louis there than Harry thought it’d be. When the party winds down and his daughters finish cleaning up, Harry kisses them goodbye, finally relaxing when they disappear into the elevator, leaving him alone.

“Hey,” Louis says, and Harry jumps. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I thought you’d left,” Harry says, holding his hand over his pounding heart. 

“I kept meaning to text you, um, before, but I’m glad I didn’t. I, um… I’d rather talk face to face, if it’s okay.” Louis scratches the side of his neck, sending his scent wafting towards Harry, and Harry nods. “My rut’s in June. I know I told you that, and I hate… I hate asking. But I was trying to make plans. I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or anything, but I do, um… I do want to know. So, if you could just, like, think it over. Let me know in the next week or so?”

“I…” Harry bites his lip and takes a deep breath through his nose. “I’ll do it.” 

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to do it unless you _want_ to do it.”

Turning the idea over his mind, Harry thinks about his most recent heat and how different it was from his other heats. Maybe Louis’ rut will be different too. “I want to. I’m still nervous. I’ll probably be nervous the whole time, but I… I want to do it.”

“Okay,” Louis says, nodding quickly, and jutting his chin out. “You use a lot of neutralizers. When we met at the coffee shop, I couldn’t smell you. But, um… During your heat, obviously, I could. Not now though.”

“I started using them in law school. Too many Alphas around who thought they automatically knew better on every subject.”

“Understandable. Why wear them at home though?”

“I… I don’t know. A habit, I suppose. I just spray them on when I step out of the shower. Why?”

Louis shrugs and smiles, corners of his eyes crinkling. “Your natural scent is… I guess I just wanted to make sure you didn’t wear them for my rut. I’ll want to smell you. And I’ll want you to smell like me.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Harry says, throat tightening as he speaks. The second Louis is on the other side of the threshold, Harry closes the door, resting his forehead against it as he takes a few calming breaths. His efforts don’t stop his tears and he puts himself to bed early so he doesn’t have to think about how such a simple thing should cause such an emotional reaction. 


	5. Chapter 5

Jane’s college graduation is the following weekend, and after that, May flies by, and June arrives before Harry’s ready for it. He’s got a massive case to deal with and for the last week, he’s been cranky and so easily annoyed that he snapped at Niall, for God’s sake. 

The following weekend, Harry starts showing symptoms of heat onset, and after arranging things with Niall, immediately texts Louis.

Louis  
  
**Harry:** I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll be able to help you with your rut if it’s next week. I’ll be in heat tomorrow so I understand if you’re not able to help me. Thanks! Have a good day!  
  
  


Harry cringes after he sends the message. He shouldn’t have said thank you or used more than one exclamation point. At least he refrained from using any emojis. 

Louis  
  
**Louis:** Are you home?  
  
**Harry:** Yes.   
**Louis:** Can I come up for a minute?  
**Harry:** Okay  
  
  


Instantly he’s on his feet, cleaning things that are already clean, putting on shoes because he doesn’t want Louis to see his bare feet, and taking them off again when he realizes what he’s doing. He doesn’t even have time to brush his teeth before Louis is ringing the doorbell.

“Harry,” Louis says, the second Harry opens the door. When Harry steps aside, Louis comes inside, but he doesn’t make a move towards the living room. “My rut’s not due for like, four or five days, but… I think if we… If I start your heat with you, my rut will catch up.”

“Do you really?” Harry tugs at his lip. Despite the length of their marriage, Richard’s rut always came after Harry’s heat; it was never fun that second week. 

“Yeah, I think so. Especially if you wash those neutralizers off,” Louis says with a pointed look at Harry’s neck, and Harry feels himself begin to blush. “If you want to, I mean. You could go ahead and just… let your scent be. It’ll help me, I’m sure.”

“You think smelling me will kickstart your rut?” Harry asks, disbelieving, but Louis just shrugs. “Fine. Actually… Wait here.” 

Harry disappears into his bathroom, pulling off his shirt so it doesn't get wet while he scrubs his face and neck too harshly. His mom would lecture him for hours about the wrinkles he’s causing. When he’s positive he’s clean, he pats his face dry and dresses, smoothing his shirt as he walks towards the living room and Louis. He didn’t wait. He’s standing by the door, which probably shouldn’t annoy Harry. 

“Smell me,” Harry says, eyes widening as he hears his own words. 

“What?”

“I washed it off. Smell me.” Harry steps closer and tips his head to the side, inviting Louis to scent him right at the source. 

Without pause, Louis moves in close, and Harry bites his lip, closing his eyes in order to stand his ground. The warmth emanating from Louis exceeds Harry’s own slightly elevated temperature. His breath is humid on Harry’s skin as he huffs an exhale. Harry can feel him shift closer, can make out of the shape of him just from his scent and the heat he’s giving off, but they don’t touch. His head falls to the side as Louis inhales; his chest expands, brushing against Harry’s, and he takes two steps back. 

“You did.” Louis coughs into his fist and Harry frowns.

“What?” Harry asks with a frown.

“You washed it off. Your smell is, um… _you._ Very much so.” Harry gasps and Louis says, “Sorry! Didn’t mean it like, in a bad way. It’s just… You smell good.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. I, um… This close to heat, I should’ve expected some sort of reaction,” Harry says and Louis raises his eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t mean it like that, Louis.”

“Sorry, um…” Louis rubs his nose and looks away. “It’s hard to get a read on you sometimes.”

“Oh. I… I don’t mean… I’m not trying to confuse you or anything. I…” Harry rubs at the crease between his eyebrows. “I don’t mean to make excuses, but I…”

“Harry,” Louis says, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. Like, I don’t mind that I have to work a little harder with you.”

“You… What?” Harry wipes the sweat from his brow and pushes his hair off his face, fighting the urge to pull his sweater away from his neck. 

Louis lifts his wrist to Harry’s forehead. “Harry, babe. You need to decide what you’re doing, so we can tell Zayn and Liam and, I assume, Niall.”

Harry hums and lets Louis’ words register. “Oh… Oh. Okay. I already told Niall about my heat.”

“Still. I’d rather you let him know I’m here with you. I mean, if you want me to stay. I think my rut will be here sooner than I thought.”

“I… Okay. Yes. Rut and heat. Rut and heat.” Harry claps his hands to wake himself up, but his hands just feel sweaty. He shakes his head to clear it and sends a quick text to Niall. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Louis closes his eyes and inhales slowly. “You’re really… I’ve never been pulled into rut before.”

“Is that happening? Are you okay?” Harry asks, tugging on the neck of his shirt. 

“Yeah, I think… It’s okay. I’m okay. Promise. My ruts are about forty-eight hours on the nose. So I should come out of it while you’re still in heat, but…” Louis coughs into his fist, and says, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I didn’t think it was that close, but I… It’s hitting me now. I…” Harry combs his hair back, anxiety making his stomach spin. “I do want this. I’m just… I’m nervous and I…”

Louis bites his lip, narrowing his eyes. He reaches a hand out, but stops short of cupping Harry’s jaw. “May I? It might help if you let me scent you.”

“Yes. Please.” Harry steps closer, closing his eyes, and letting Louis tilt his head in his hands. He presses his nose to Harry’s neck and suddenly they’re surrounded in Louis’ scent. It’s both stronger and sharper, but Harry feels better immediately. He rests his forehead on Louis’ shoulder and whispers, “Thanks.”

“’Course, baby.” Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek and rubs his hands slowly up and down Harry’s back. Harry shivers and curls himself around Louis, holding tight to the loose fabric of his t-shirt. “I need to, um… I need you to go to the bedroom, and strip the bed. I’ve got to let Liam and Zayn know I’m staying. And… No fridge in this bedroom?”

“No,” Harry says with a quiet laugh. “Only in the kitchen.”

“Okay. You go ahead and I’ll be right behind you.” Louis slides his hand down and pats Harry’s bum, giving it a quick squeeze, making Harry jump and squeak. “Sorry!”

“No, no. It’s fine. I… I just wasn’t expecting it.” Harry’s hand shakes as he lifts it to fix Louis’ hair, brushing it away where it’s hanging in front of his eyes. “Haven’t been touched like that in a long time.”

He’s fascinated by the little frown lines on Louis’ forehead. They’re not as pronounced as his own, but they’re there, deepening the longer he looks at Harry. When he sighs, the lines relax. 

“Go on. I’ll be right there,” Louis promises, and Harry nods, walking towards his bedroom. 

The room is smaller than the old bedroom he shared with his ex-husband, but it’s his own. He attempts to unbutton his shirt, but there are too many buttons and his trembling hands make it harder to undo them. He tries, but gets frustrated, deciding to ignore them and take off his trousers instead. Louis can knot him with his shirt on. 

Quietly, Harry snorts, amused at his own desperation. He’s never had sex with his clothes _on._ That’s ridiculous. 

“Alright?” Louis asks, his scent hitting Harry from across the room. Harry turns and laughs at the jar of peanut butter balanced on top of the bowl of fruit from his kitchen table. Louis sets it down on the dresser closest to the door, and pulls bottles of water from all of his pockets. He smiles and asks, “What?”

Harry shrugs, feeling self conscious about his laughter, his mood, his inability to unbutton his shirt, his… everything. “Just… You’re prepared.”

“Of course,” Louis says, shutting the bedroom door. He crosses the room, reaching for Harry’s shirt, and Harry drops his arms to let him unbutton it. With his lower lip tucked between his teeth, Louis furrows his brow, nimble fingers easily slipping each button free. His hands brush against Harry’s chest, cool, but somehow leaving a trail of warmth as he works his way down the placket of Harry’s shirt. 

Louis leans in, nudging Harry’s nose with his own, tipping his head and meeting Harry’s waiting mouth. He pushes Harry’s shirt off his arms, then rests one hand over Harry’s heart, sliding it across his chest and tracing Harry’s nipple. As Louis kisses down the side of his neck, his stronger scent makes Harry dizzy and warm and so desperate that he whines loudly from the back of his throat. 

“Hush, baby. I… I’m trying to be gentle with you,” Louis says, and Harry huffs.

“Don’t… Please don’t…” With his eyes shut tight, it’s so much easier to tell Louis what he wants. “Need you… Need your knot.”

Growling in his ear, Louis shoves Harry’s trousers down and palms his ass with both hands, digging his fingers into the muscle before stepping back to yank his own shirt over his head. Voice muffled by his t-shirt, Louis says, “On the bed.” Harry leaps to obey, stretching out across the mattress on his stomach, legs spread wide, face buried among the pillows. 

The fabric of the sheet is like a balm against his burning skin, and he doesn’t realize he’s humping the mattress until Louis grips the backs of his thighs and stops his movements. Harry tries his best to close his legs, embarrassed by his own neediness and lack of decorum, but Louis’ hands keep him in place. He slides them up, pulling Harry’s cheeks apart, and Harry shivers as the air hits the wetness there. 

Behind him, Louis hums and it turns to a low growl just before he dives down and licks Harry messily from his balls to the base of his spine. Shuddering at the new sensation, Harry’s heat and his body take over. He lifts his hips, pushing back against Louis’ mouth, as tears slip from his eyes. Too far gone already to worry or be embarrassed by what he might taste like, Harry’s mind drifts away. 

When he comes to, he’s still in his bed, but he’s on his side, with Louis draped over his back, grinding his hips against Harry's bum. His knot pulses inside Harry and Harry moans, throat dry and scratchy. 

“Shit. Sorry,” Louis says, hips hitching forward. His knot presses harder against Harry’s prostate and his cock twitches, spurting weakly. “You here?”

Harry nods, rocking his body backwards to get Louis’ dick deeper. “Thirsty.”

“Here,” Louis says, and Harry watches over his shoulder as he rolls his upper body away from Harry, reaching for a water bottle on the bedside table, while being careful that his knot doesn’t pull on Harry’s rim and hurt him. He manages to open the bottle and help Harry drink before finishing it off and tossing the empty bottle to the floor. “Go to sleep, baby. You need the rest. I’ll clean you up when my knot goes down.”

Harry sighs and wiggles down under the blanket, sinking into the warmth of Louis’ chest against his back. 

▓▓▓

Other than the ones that resulted in pregnancies, his heats have always left him feeling melancholy, and that was completely absent after his first heat with Louis. For a few days, Harry panicked, thinking that he’d somehow managed to get pregnant, despite his permanent birth control. But once he peed on a stick and got a negative result, he did a little reading and found that the probable reason for his lack of post-heat depression was the short length of his heat. 

This time, after his heat has passed and he has the same absence of sadness, he recognizes it for what it is. His lack of post-heat depression is due to the short length of his heat, which in turn is due to Louis. 

He carries that mood with him, even when his daughters leave him _alone_ to go on their own ‘sisters only’ vacation. He works late every day that week, and decides to spend the weekend watching movies, eating popcorn, and crying into his wine glass. 

After filling his grocery cart with snacks and cheese and wine and two pre-packaged salads because he can’t just eat cheese and popcorn all weekend, Harry pushes it towards the frozen food aisle in search of ice cream. He turns the corner and almost rams his cart right into Louis. 

“Oops!” Harry stops short, the front wheel of his grocery cart inches from Louis’ bare ankle.

“Hi,” Louis says, letting the freezer door swing closed. “What’re you doing here?”

Harry spontaneously combusts next to the frozen pizzas. 

“Sorry! Didn’t mean—” Louis reaches out as if to soothe Harry’s discomfort with a touch, but he pulls his hand away. “Hi. Sorry. I meant— Oh, you're having people over?” 

“Hmm?” Harry raises his eyebrows and follows Louis’ gaze to the contents of his grocery cart. It certainly sounds like a better reason for Harry to have four varietals of wine, four types of cheese to pair with them, and seven different bags of popcorn. “No, um… Just me. Was about to grab some ice cream too. Feeling a bit sorry for myself.”

“Really?” Louis asks, eyes wide. He sounds honestly surprised. “Why?”

“Oh, my girls left me this week.”

“Your daughters?”

Harry nods. “On a ‘sisters only’ vacation. No dads allowed.”

“You must’ve really wanted to go with them,” Louis says, a little line appearing between his eyebrows. 

“No. Not at all, actually,” Harry says, laughing quietly. “Just wanted to be included. If they’d invited me, I’d’ve said no.”

Tipping his head to the side, Louis purses his lips, but then he smiles. “Understandable. Everybody wants to feel wanted.”

“I… I suppose so,” Harry says. 

“Hey, so…” Louis taps the window of the freezer door. “I was going to get a pizza, go home, and watch a movie.”

“Oh, me too. I’ve got a collection of rom coms to go with all of this,” Harry says, gesturing to his groceries.

“Yeah? I can’t say I have a collection, but I _was_ planning to watch _Sleepless In Seattle_ with my pizza. And I have mint chocolate chip ice cream at home.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Harry says. Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks movies are among his favorites. 

“I…” Louis scratches at his beard and a zing goes up Harry’s spine at the memory of the scrape of it between his legs. “What flavor?”

“Oh, um… I don’t know.” Harry looks across the aisle at the various brands and flavors of ice cream, overwhelmed by his options. 

Louis hooks his fingers over the edge of Harry’s cart and pulls it—and Harry, who follows along easily—closer to the ice cream. He says, “I’m predictable. Always get the same flavor.”

“Not predictable. You know what you like,” Harry says. The freezer shelves are filled with every flavor imaginable, but when Harry finds himself wondering what flavor cake birthday cake flavored ice cream tastes like, he gets annoyed with himself. “Vanilla.”

“Classic.” Louis waits while Harry chooses his ice cream, then says, “I have some chocolate syrup at home. You could, um… come over. Watch _Sleepless In Seattle._ Have some chocolate sauce on your ice cream.”

“Oh, I—”

“Just as friends!” Louis rushes out. “Sorry. I know from your, um… That’s not… I just thought… Zayn and Liam left me and your kids left you and I’d be alone with my movie and ice cream and you’d be alone with your movie and ice cream and cheese and wine and popcorn and you said you were feeling down and I…”

“Zayn and Liam left you?” Harry asks. 

Louis nods. “They’re out. Mate-date night.”

“Oh… Okay,” Harry says. “I’ll, um… We can. But I have to put all of this back.”

Louis laughs as he helps put everything but the ice cream back. And Harry picks a frozen pizza for himself. 

▓▓▓

Louis’ apartment on the second floor is laid out the same way as Harry’s, which is a bit strange at first. Instead of Harry’s brand new, streamlined, modern, coordinating sofa and chairs, when Louis opens the door, it’s to a rolled arm sectional so massive that he imagines Louis, Zayn, and Liam could all three lie down on it without touching. 

“If you want to have a seat, I’ll get the pizza started,” Louis says, disappearing into the kitchen. 

Harry sits in the middle of the sectional, directly in front of the coffee table, facing the television, and it registers that no matter how platonic the intentions are for the evening, he and Louis have had sex with each other a number of times. And in Louis’ apartment, his scent is everywhere. It’s all Harry can smell. Harry jumps up, heart pounding. 

“Hey,” Louis says when Harry pops his head into the kitchen. 

“Hi,” Harry says. “Sorry.”

“Why?” Louis asks, sliding his frozen pizza out of its box.

“I… don’t know why I came in here.” Harry laughs, though he feels like he might vomit. More words come out instead, while the swirling in his stomach continues. “I meant to go to the restroom and just…” 

Louis snorts and Harry thinks he might die. “Just wanted to say hi?”

“I guess so,” Harry says. Standing there, still, entire body tingly and hot from embarrassment, he gestures at the space between them and asks, “Do you think this is weird?”

“In what way?” Louis asks, and Harry has to think about his answer. 

God, he really thought Louis would just take it from there and he wouldn’t have to put words to it. Harry steps into the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I was about to say because we slept together, but there’s that _and_ the fact that I’m more than twenty years older than you.”

Louis looks at him without speaking. He licks his lips, brows knitted together, and Harry wants to tell him to forget it. But then he shrugs and says, “I thought we could be friends.”

“I suppose we could, yeah. But—”

“I have friends who’re older than me and I have friends I’ve spent rut or heat with and it’s fine. And I already told you. I’ve— I’m…” Louis sucks in a sharp breath and exhales, puffing his cheeks out. “I like you.”

“I like you too,” Harry replies instantly. Because Louis is lovely and he’s sure that _everyone_ must like Louis. Harry holds his hand to his mouth when he realizes what Louis meant. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I mean, I get that you don’t want more, but is there a reason we can’t be friends?” Louis asks, stepping closer.

Harry takes a deep breath, inhaling Louis’ scent. The pizza does nothing to cover it. It just makes him hungry _and_ happy despite his flaming face and churning stomach. “No. There’s not. No reason we can’t try to be friends. It’s just…It’s still a bit weird that we’ve slept together.”

Louis raises his brow, blinking slowly. “Did you want to talk about us sleeping together?”

“No. No. I’m sorry I brought it up,” Harry says, much faster than he usually talks. The last thing he wants to discuss are his heats, which he doesn’t remember anyway. 

“Don’t be,” Louis says. “I… I like being around you, Harry. A lot. You’re fun and you’re interesting and you seem like a pretty awesome person, and I mean—”

“Thank you,” Harry says, mainly to make him stop. 

“Oh, um, you’re welcome.” Louis looks away, cheeks tinged pink, and says, “Just, um… Like, definitely let me know if you change your mind and want to talk about, um… _it._ ”

Harry goes back over Louis’ words inside his head, and before he says anything else has to know, despite how embarrassed he already is at the answers he’s imagining. “Was there something specific about my heats that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I didn’t want to talk to you about your heat. I— I mean, I was just saying, since you said you _didn’t_ want to talk about it. But you said sex, right? Sleeping together?”

“Yeah, I, um… I guess I wasn’t thinking.” Harry frowns, rubbing his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger, stomach tight. “Did you… Was there something you wanted to ask about that?”

Louis shrugs and runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “Not really. I just meant, if it’s up for discussion, like, if you were open to the idea.”

Harry opens his mouth, and clamps it closed. He finally asks, just to be sure, “Open to the idea of having sex with you outside of heat and rut?”

“Yeah.” Louis frowns, lines appearing between his brows. “Sorry. I know that’s not what you want. I shouldn’t’ve said—”

“Louis,” Harry says, talking over him. “I… It isn’t that I don’t want to. I just… I don’t know. I was married for twenty-seven years. I got married the year you were _born.”_

Louis huffs an amused chuckle and says, “That’s funny.”

“It _is not,”_ Harry says, even though it is. It _is_ funny. It’s hilarious. Over half of Harry’s life was spent married to a man who carried on two affairs, one of which lasted longer than their marriage, considering they’re still together. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Louis says, stepping closer. “I’m sorry. I thought we’d dealt with the age thing. Talked about it. Whatever.”

Harry sighs. “We did. I just hadn’t thought about it in those terms.”

“My birthday’s Christmas Eve,” Louis says. “When did you get married?”

“Spring,” Harry answers and steers the conversation back. “I don’t think the age thing is something that’s going to go away.”

“Harry, if you don’t want to sleep with me, it’s fine. I’ve said. Like we can go back to texting when you go into heat. And if… If you don’t want to be friends, I get it. I didn’t mean to pressure you into coming over or—”

 _“Stop.”_ Harry clenches his jaw, breathing through his nose. “You’re not… I feel like you’re not understanding me.” Louis nods, but doesn’t say anything, crossing his arms over his chest. It takes Harry a moment to gather his thoughts. “It’s not that I don’t like sex. But before you, I only ever had sex with my ex-husband. And when we were young, yes, we did it more often, but with our children and our careers and his affairs… I haven’t had sex outside of my heat or my husband’s rut in ten years. Maybe more.”

“I…” Louis starts, but Harry keeps talking. 

“And on top of that, yeah I don’t get it.” Harry shrugs dramatically, lifting his hands in the air. “I don’t understand why you’re interested in sleeping with me.”

As soon as he seems to think Harry's finished, Louis says, “I’m sorry. About your ex. I mean, I’m not sorry you’re divorced, because we wouldn’t’ve met otherwise. But I’m sorry you were ever unhappy. Or unappreciated.”

Harry holds his hand over his heart, closing his eyes and taking deep, measured breaths to try to calm himself down. He can smell Louis’ sincerity so he whispers, “Thank you.”

“And, um, if you weren’t getting the sex you wanted, I’m sorry about that too.” Harry snorts and Louis grins at him, corners of his eyes crinkling. “As far as why I’m _interested_ in sleeping with you… Have you thought about the fact that I’ve _already_ slept with you?”

“Not really. I mean, I know that, I… I don’t remember much. I don’t… I don’t understand why you want to.”

“You’ve spent two heats with me, Harry. I’ve knotted you bare like dozens of times, and you don’t understand why I would want to do it outside your heat where you’ll remember it?” 

“No. I don’t. I mean, maybe. I…” It’s hard to think about it when he doesn’t really remember it, especially when he’s been telling himself Louis was only doing him a favor. “When you say it like that, I… I get it. I do. I…” 

“Harry, it’s fine if you don’t want to have sex outside of your heat. You don’t have to. I’m sorry if I overstepped. And, like, we can be friends. Friends with heat and rut benefits. We can spend them together until you meet someone you _do_ want to date.”

“I…” The oven beeps and Louis puts Harry’s pizza in, setting the timer on his phone. “I’m… Bathroom.” Harry points in that direction and goes. 

There’s a hand soap by the guest bathroom sink and, after taking off his shirt, Harry uses a tiny bit of that and warm water to wash away the scent neutralizers from his skin. He pats himself dry and puts his shirt back on, not wanting to look at his bare torso in the mirror while he’s trying to convince himself it’s a good idea to do any of this.

Louis is bent over, looking into the oven through the glass door, and he doesn’t stand up right away. It’s the first time Harry’s given himself permission to look at Louis for more than a few seconds. He always makes himself look away. And he’s been making himself look away really fast when his eyes land on any part of Louis below the waist. 

Cutoff sweatpants have never been so flattering as when they drape across the curves of Louis’ bum, and Harry’s eyes follow as he stands back up and turns around. 

“Hey, I…” Louis starts and Harry forces himself to move and to keep moving until he’s close enough that he knows Louis has to be able to smell him. “You washed that stuff off.”

“I wanted you to be able to smell me,” Harry whispers. 

“You… Why?”

“I don’t know, really. I couldn’t figure out what to say. And I thought…” Harry drags his hand over the side of his neck, unsure why he feels the need to be so honest. “I thought it would help.”

“What… What do you want to do now?”

“I think… I don’t know,” Harry says, shuffling closer to Louis because he still isn’t sure what to say or do, but he wants to eat pizza and watch Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks fall in love. And he wants to do those things with Louis. Past that, he doesn’t know. “Can I… I think if you scent me, I’ll feel better. I…” 

“Really?” Louis asks, and opens his arms wide when Harry nods. 

With his arms hanging at his side, Harry moves into Louis’ space, and Louis wraps him up in a hug. Tucking his face against Louis' neck, Harry mutters, “I’m a little overwhelmed.” 

“I can tell, now that I can smell you,” Louis says, voice quiet. “First time outside of your heat.”

Harry hums, breathing in Louis’ steadying scent while Louis runs one hand up and down his spine, scratching Harry’s scalp at the base of his skull, smoothing his palm over every vertebrae, stopping just above his tailbone. 

“Is this okay?” Harry asks, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his nose against Louis’ neck. 

“What does my scent say?” Louis asks, combing his fingers through the back of Harry’s hair while Harry breathes him in. 

“That you’re happy to be here,” Harry says, and Louis laughs and leans back.

“I am.” Louis wrinkles his nose. “Always happy to be around you. Is that it then?”

Harry shrugs, but in Louis’ hold it hardly jostles them and he winds up more tightly held. “What does mine say?” Heat from Louis’ exhaling against his neck makes his shiver, but when he inhales, it’s cool and he pushes closer to Louis wanting his warmth.

“That you _want_ to be happy to be here,” Louis says, words warm on his skin. 

“That’s very on the nose,” Harry says. He rubs his nose back and forth, smiling into Louis’ neck. 

“I was trying to sum it up.” Louis sighs and turns his head, resting his temple on Harry’s shoulder. Harry pushes back against him, curling around him, pulling Louis closer so that his lips brush Harry’s neck when he speaks. “Your hesitance is understandable, you know.”

“I know,” Harry says, lifting his head away from Louis’ neck and shoulder. The oven timer goes off and Harry takes a step back, but with Louis’ arms looped around him, he can’t go far. Louis grips Harry's hips, keeping hold of him while he puts a few inches between them. 

“You okay now?” Louis asks and Harry nods. 

“Can we just eat pizza and watch the movie and not… talk?” Harry bits his lip, hoping he’s not pushing too hard.

Louis laughs, rubbing his thumbs over Harry’s love handles, and Harry fights the urge to pull away. “Yeah, we can do that.” 

▓▓▓

Harry manages to keep up with the movie, only because he’s seen it before. As soon as they finish their pizza, and Harry leans back into the couch cushion, he becomes hyper aware of Louis’ presence. Every breath he takes, every incremental movement, is the focus of Harry’s attention. He stares when Louis taps his fingers on his knee while Louis Armstrong sings “A Kiss to Build a Dream On” and he stares when Louis sips his water and he stares when Louis laughs. Every time he inhales, all he breathes in is Louis. And for the first time in so long it pains Harry to think about it, he wants. 

As soon as the movie ends, Harry stands, combing his fingers through his hair. He stretches his arms overhead and says, “I’m so tired.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, getting to his feet.

Harry nods, rubbing his stomach as he backs away from Louis’ comfy couch. “Tired and ate too much pizza. I should go.”

“Oh… Okay.” Louis follows him to the door, resting his hand on Harry’s lower back and reaching around him to open the door. “I had a good time tonight.”

“Me too!” Harry closes his eyes when he hears his overeager voice. Careful to keep his tone more level, he says, “It was fun. We’ll talk soon.”

“Yeah, we can watch one of your collection of rom coms next time.”

Harry nods, stepping into the corridor. “Good night, Louis.”

“’Night, Harry,” Louis says, and Harry can feel Louis’ eyes on him as he walks away.

He hurries up to his apartment, gulping lungfuls of air, clear of Louis’ scent. Behind the closed door of his apartment, Harry breaks down. He’s sort of an expert by now, so it’s a fairly calm breakdown. He lays on the sofa and panics silently because he… God. He’s wet. Just a little, and not enough to smell it, but it’s there. Hot and pulsating in time to his heartbeat. 

And really there’s no difference, if he were to have sex with Louis outside of heat or rut. Sex is sex is sex is sex. Except this time Harry would remember it. Be aware and awake and present for it. But it’s just sex. 

Harry lays there for a good half hour, at least, trying to convince himself not to. In the end, he brushes his teeth and puts on his satin pajamas and ties his robe around his waist before _calmly_ walking down to Louis’ apartment and ringing the bell. 

“Harry?” Louis says it like it’s a question, when they’re looking each other in the eye. He steps back to let Harry in, shutting the door behind him. 

Harry barrels forward, forcing the first few words and hoping the rest will tumble out. “I’m open to the idea of sleeping with you,” he says, and Louis’ eyebrows shoot up. “More than open to it, really. It’s just sex, right? Not something we haven’t done before.”

“If, um… If that’s…” Louis clears his throat and says, “Yeah. Yeah. Just sex.”

“I…” Harry giggles, slapping his hand over his mouth. That does nothing to stop his face from flushing hot. “Sorry. I, um… It’s a bit silly isn’t it?”

“What? Sex?” Louis asks, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“I guess? I feel like I don’t know what to do…” 

Louis hums and reaches for Harry’s trembling hand, lacing their fingers together. “Do you want something to drink?” he asks, but Harry shakes his head. Lifting their connected hands, Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s knuckle. “Is there anything, um… particular you want? Or maybe don’t want?”

“No, I…” Harry blinks, watching as Louis kisses his knuckle again and lowers their hands to swing between them. “I think maybe I’ll, um… Well, I know without heat, I’m not… I don’t get as, um…”

“Oh! Yeah. I mean, of course. That’s not… How about this?” Louis moves in closer, gently cupping Harry’s cheek with his free hand. “Let me take care of you. But, if I do something you don’t like, you have to promise to tell me.” 

Harry closes his eyes and leans into Louis’ touch, breathing in deep, letting Louis’ scent ease his anxiety. “Promise.”

“Good,” Louis says, voice soft.

“Sorry I’m such a… a…”

Louis shushes him, tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear before sliding his thumb over Harry’s lips. “Do you want to spend the night?”

“I… I don’t know,” Harry answers honestly. 

“Thought I’d ask now, so there’s no, um… weirdness after?” Louis shrugs and takes a step back, pulling Harry with him. “Know that you can. You don’t have to, obviously. And I know some people prefer to sleep alone, but like… The invitation’s there, is what I’m saying.”

“Okay,” Harry whispers, following Louis to his bedroom. Sharing an apartment with Zayn and Liam means that Louis has the second, smaller bedroom, with the second, smaller bathroom that also opens to the hall, rather than the larger master suite. It’s cozy. Dim, lit only by a single lamp on the bedside table, with heavy curtains pulled over the window, and an unmade bed in the corner, squashy pillows piled up on one side with the sheets and blanket thrown over top. 

Louis leads him to the edge of the bed, untying the belt of Harry’s robe and slipping it from his shoulders. When he turns to hang it on the hook by his door instead of letting it fall to the floor or tossing it aside, the feeling of surprise turns to a warmth that runs through him, and a blush rises up his neck. Harry kicks off his slippers, and fumbles with the buttons of his pajama top, cursing himself for wearing something with _fastenings_ when he could've worn a t-shirt or even nothing at all. At least his pants have an elastic waist. 

“Let me,” Louis says, circling his fingers around Harry’s wrists. He takes Harry’s hands and brings them to his own shoulders, where Harry rests them lightly, letting the connection of their bodies ground him. 

Skating his palms over Harry’s chest, Louis bites his lip while he works to slip each button free. The second his shirt falls open, Harry is hit with a flood of self-consciousness that his heats usually override. He drops his hands from Louis’ shoulders and tugs on the hem of his shirt, pulling it over to hide his belly.

“Hey,” Louis says, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Harry’s collarbone. “Can turn off the lamp, if you want. Whatever you want.” When Harry nods, Louis steps sideways and flips the switch, plunging the room into complete darkness. Harry stands perfectly still, aware of the fabric of his pajamas touching him, the soft carpet under his feet, the cool air of the room on his skin, but unable to see anything no matter how hard he strains his eyes. 

Somehow, Louis finds him, his warm hand tugs on the sleeve of Harry’s shirt until it comes loose, and Harry doesn’t care at all where it winds up now, though the middle of the floor is a safe bet. With his arms hanging at his sides, Harry takes a deep breath, chest expanding with it just as Louis fits his hands to Harry’s sides, fingers tickling his ribs. 

With the lights off, every other sensation is slightly elevated. Giggling quietly, Harry lifts his hand, searching blindly for Louis’ face, wanting to feel the sharpness of his scruff, and to pull him closer, to press his lips against Louis’ cheek. 

Since the divorce, actually from the moment Richard came clean about his affairs, Harry threw himself into working out. He joined an Omega only gym, and began exercising more regularly. Every morning until recently, the second he’d wake, reality would come crashing down. And then he’d set off for the gym, where he’d proceed to swim or run until he chased that looming sadness away. 

Things haven’t been as bad lately, so he hasn’t been going every day. But as Louis trails his lips over Harry’s chest and down, sinking slowly to his knees while leaving kiss after kiss on Harry’s stomach, he wishes he’d kept up his more rigorous workout schedule. Harry sucks in a breath through his teeth, body tense and abs tightening as he pulls them in. 

Louis presses a kiss under Harry’s bellybutton, and Harry feels him inhale, pushing his nose against the soft flesh there—the pooch no diet or exercise will get rid of—that he’s carried around since the birth of his first daughter. Gripping Louis’ shoulder, Harry digs his fingers in, and Louis pushes Harry’s pajama pants down before getting to his feet. 

“You don’t want me to touch you there?” Louis whispers the question, nudging the tip of Harry’s nose with his own, their lips brushing together when Harry shakes his head. “What about here?” He asks, sliding his hand up Harry's side, thumb grazing his nipple. The hitch in Harry’s breath should be enough of an answer, but Louis scrapes his thumbnail over his nipple again, harder, and rubs circles around and around the areola, which Harry pushes into and fights against until Louis pinches him. It’s not sharp or stinging, but it gets his attention. Louis rolls his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling as he repeats his question. “What about here, Harry?”

Harry nods convulsively when Louis digs his fingernail in, bucking his hips forward in search of friction and finding the hard line of Louis’ cock trapped in his soft sweatpants. Harry groans and shakes his head.

“No?” Louis asks, releasing Harry’s nipple. 

Whining, Harry chases his touch, pushing his chest against Louis’ hand. He shuts his eyes tight. “Please…” 

His fingers find Harry’s nipples too easily in the dark, and this time he plays with them both, pinching and twisting as he lifts his chin and catches Harry’s open mouth in a kiss. Clumsily, Harry grasps at Louis’ waist, moaning as he brings their hips together and Louis drops one hand to the dip in Harry’s spine, pulling him closer and eliminating the space left between them. Harry pushes at the elastic waist of Louis’ sweatpants with one hand, tugging his t-shirt away from his back with the other, rucking the fabric up until Louis gives up and takes a step back. 

Laughing quietly, Louis takes off his shirt. “Can you see to get on the bed?”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, sitting on the edge of the mattress, feet still firmly on the floor. 

“Lay down, baby,” Louis says, and Harry can hear his smile even if he can’t see it. 

Harry lies back, scooting towards the wall while he watches Louis push his sweatpants down. The outline of Louis’ body moves closer, and as he climbs, kneeling, onto the bed, Harry suddenly wants to _see._ He doesn’t so much care whether Louis sees him too. 

“Can you turn the lamp on?” Harry asks, voice deeper and rougher than usual. 

“You okay?” Louis asks, flipping the switch and flooding the room with warm light. 

“Yeah, just, um…” Harry glances down at his own naked body, but forces himself to meet Louis’ eyes. “Wanted to see you.”

The smile that spreads slowly across Louis’ face makes Harry’s stomach flip, and he grins back, hoping he looks somewhat enticing, nude in Louis’ bed. Louis straddles Harry’s calves, too far away for Harry to touch him easily, but the perfect distance for Harry to see as much of Louis’ golden skin as possible. All of him is visible at once, or at least, most of him. Harry lets his gaze wander from Louis’ knees to his thighs, the spread of the thick muscles, the glint of auburn in the hair on his legs, to the darker and thicker curls at the base of his cock, standing fully erect. He slowly strokes himself while Harry watches. 

Harry’s eyes dart up from the barely there bulge of the beginning of Louis’ knot, to Louis’ face, and he finds Louis watching him too. The blue of his eyes is darker in the lamplight, the desire clear in the hungry way he rakes his gaze over Harry’s body. He meets Harry’s stare, curving his hands over Harry’s knees, and follows the line of his thighs, sliding his palms up. Harry tries to spread his legs, but can’t, trapped by Louis’ body. Instead, Louis digs his thumbs into Harry’s inner thighs, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that Harry wants to push his hands away. He doesn’t, and Louis grips him harder, making Harry hiss as his body tenses.

“Harry?” Louis raises his eyebrows. “Baby, come on.”

“What?” Harry asks, breathless, throat tight.

“What’d you promise me?”

Harry huffs and closes his eyes, squeezing his thighs together. “Don’t… Please don’t do that. Don’t touch me like that. It hurts.” 

“What else?” Louis asks, shifting up and leaning over Harry, holding himself up with his arms to either side of Harry’s shoulders, but keeping his knees pressed tight to the outside of Harry’s thighs. 

Pushing back against Louis’ knees, Harry says, “Want to move my legs.”

“All you have to do is say something, Harry. Easy,” Louis says, smoothly crawling back, nudging his knee between Harry’s legs until he spreads them far enough that he can kneel there. He slides his hands back up Harry’s thighs, but this time he drags his thumbs over the crease where Harry’s leg meets his pelvis, scratching the hair there. 

With his hands on the very top of Harry’s thighs, Louis squeezes, his thumbs pressing down past where Harry’s balls hang heavy, to push between his cheeks and pull him apart. His skin sticks together at first and then Louis’ finger slips in the wetness gathered there. Harry gasps as Louis’ fingertip grazes his rim, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress to give him better access, while folding his arms over his face to hide his eyes and hopefully his blush. 

Thankfully, Louis doesn’t seem to mind Harry’s conflicting desires, and merely chuckles quietly, gently stroking the outside of Harry’s thigh with one warm hand. The touch relaxes Harry and Louis pushes his finger inside. 

It’s so good, feeling a part of Louis deep inside him, and Harry’s surprised by how much he wants and how quickly he gets desperate for more. He’s barely stretched, but he’s wet enough, and he lifts his hips, hoping for another. A second finger joins the first, and Harry’s body accommodates it easily. He clenches his muscles, tightening around Louis’ fingers.

“So gorgeous,” Louis says, voice reverent as he wraps a hand around Harry’s cock and strokes it slow and steady matching the movement of his fingers in and out of Harry's body. 

“Want to do it this way?” Louis asks, gingerly pulling his fingers free and reaching for a pillow, presumably to prop Harry’s hips up, but Harry shakes his head.

Rolling onto his stomach isn’t the easiest thing when his legs won’t stop shaking and his trembling arms can barely support his weight, but it’s what he knows, so it’s what he wants. It was always Richard’s preferred position, and the traditional way is traditional for a reason. Besides, it might make Louis uncomfortable to have Harry staring up at him the whole time. 

Presenting himself to Louis, ass up, face buried in the pillow he holds tight with his folded arms, Harry spreads his legs wider. Louis smooths his hands in circles over Harry’s lower back and bum, murmuring reassuring words that Harry can’t understand. The fat head of Louis’ cock is at once soft and hard, pressing against his wet rim, pushing past the resistance and gradually filling Harry completely. The slight swell of Louis’ knot at the base stretches him perfectly, sending sparks zipping up his spine, and Harry grinds back, circling his hips for just a little bit more. 

“God, you always take it so well,” Louis says, his words of praise making Harry shiver with pleasure. 

Slowly, Louis begins to thrust, pulling halfway out and driving forward again and again. As he gets into a rhythm, Louis curls his body over Harry’s, pressing his chest to Harry’s back. He props himself up with one hand, taking his weight off of Harry, and reaches around with the other. His hand slides in the sweat on Harry’s stomach and Harry twitches away from the touch, but Louis keeps his hand moving up to Harry’s chest. 

“Know what you like,” Louis mutters, his lips brushing the back of Harry’s shoulder. He clamps his fingers down tight on Harry’s nipple while fucking him faster. The swell of his knot catches on Harry’s rim for a split second with each thrust, until the tugging becomes overwhelming and Louis buries himself deep inside Harry. The knot grows, locking them together, and Harry falls onto the bed with Louis on top of him. 

Fitting his hand between the mattress and Harry's body, Louis finds Harry’s other nipple, pulling them both and pinching them in time to the roll of his hips against Harry's bum. When the first wave of Louis’ orgasm hits, he grunts, squeezing Harry’s chest and digging his fingernails into the sensitive skin of his swollen nipples. The space behind his nipples tingles and with his dick trapped against the mattress, Harry comes, body tightening around Louis’ knot. 

Louis shifts on top of him, come spurts from Harry's cock again, and he chokes on nothing, barely able to breathe. When Louis moves them onto their sides, tucking his arm beneath Harry’s head, Harry looks down at the mess on the sheets, gasping at the beads of milk gathered at the tips of his nipples. He hurries to pull the sheet up to cover himself. 

“You okay?” Louis asks, breath warm on Harry’s neck. 

Harry nods, snuggling back against him. “Yeah. Yeah, um… Sorry if it was different than my heats.”

“Shh…” Louis kisses the base of Harry’s neck. “It’s always good with you. Just a bit quieter this time.” He smiles and Harry can feel Louis’ beard scratching his skin. “Was amazing. Get in you so deep like this.”

Thoughts swirl around Harry’s mind. Everything Louis has said and everything they’ve done turns itself over and over again and Harry falls asleep before he can string a coherent sentence together. 


	6. Chapter 6

Harry wakes with a start. It takes a few seconds to orient himself, and when he does, he turns his head to the side and his body stiffens involuntarily. He’s naked on his stomach in Louis’ bed, arms underneath the pillow, legs underneath the sheet, and Louis is facing him, lying on his side with his leg thrown over Harry’s and his hand on Harry’s lower back. 

“I can smell you panicking,” Louis says without opening his eyes.

When he doesn’t untangle himself from Harry, Harry buries his face further into the pillow, muttering, and cringing at his own morning breath, “Sorry.”

“It’s like six.” Slowly, Louis slides his hand up Harry’s spine, the warmth of his palm on the cool skin of his back making him shiver. Cupping the back of Harry’s neck, Louis tangles his index finger in Harry’s short curls. “You need to be somewhere?”

Harry thinks about saying yes. Sometimes he goes to yoga on Saturday mornings. But his actual plans for the day were to have a solo pseudo-vacation, since the girls are away. A day trip to the beach, lunch, a little shopping in the afternoon, whatever he felt like doing. Maybe a massage. But he can do that later. Harry shakes his head, tugging his own hair with Louis’ finger, and he hisses.

“Sorry,” Louis whispers, letting go of Harry’s hair and sliding his hand back down between his shoulder blades. 

“It’s fine. I… It didn’t hurt, really.” Harry absolutely refuses to face Louis and speak, so he turns his head the other way and loosens his hold on the pillow. “I don’t really have plans, but I either have to brush my teeth or go back to sleep.”

Louis snorts and the mattress moves as he shifts closer to Harry. He tugs on Harry’s arm, urging him onto his side, and Harry goes easily. They fall asleep again, spooning. 

An hour later, Harry wakes up to Louis’ entire body jerking away from him. He can still feel the line of Louis’ hard cock pressed against him even though it’s not there, and he shivers at the loss, looking back over his shoulder.

“Sorry!” Louis inches further away from him and says, “Just woke up.”

“It’s okay, Lou. We’re spooning naked.” 

“Still. You were sleeping. I…”

“Yeah, okay. True,” Harry says, scooting backwards towards Louis. “I’m awake now, though.” 

“You want to go back to sleep?” Louis asks, moving his upper body closer.

Harry shakes his head. “No, but I’m too lazy to get out of bed.”

Louis laughs quietly, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of Harry’s spine. “Are you hungry?”

“Are you hard?” Harry asks and Louis sputters. 

“It’ll go away,” Louis says, looking down at the sheets covering his cock. 

“Okay,” Harry says, yawning and stretching his arms across the mattress, wishing Louis had thought to ask about the following morning the night before. “I should probably go. Need to pee and brush my teeth.”

“It’s weird. It’s like my college boyfriend who lived in the same dorm.”

“Far from it,” Harry says, forcing himself to throw off the sheet and get out of bed. He makes himself move slowly, refusing to hurry as he drapes his robe over his shoulders. Maybe he _will_ go to the gym.

Louis hums, grabbing the pillow Harry slept with and holding it to his chest. “Busy day?” 

“I…” Harry frowns, tightening the belt around his waist and looking around the floor for his pajamas. “Busy, yes. But nothing dire. You?”

“No, um…” Louis slides his legs out from under the sheet and climbs out of bed, crossing to the chair in the corner while Harry stares at his bum, mouth falling open when Louis bends over. He straightens up and turns around and Harry finds himself looking at Louis’ softening cock instead. A warmth swells in his chest as he fixes his gaze on Louis’ face and Louis hands him his clothes. Louis grins, eyes crinkling, and says, “I have no plans, actually.”

“Oh,” Harry says, though he isn’t sure what he expected. He doesn’t even know what Louis does for a living. 

“You have any suggestions?” Louis props his hands on his hips and Harry thanks God for peripheral vision. 

“I… You could paint your bedroom?” Harry laughs when Louis scowls and quickly shakes his head. “Go to the beach?”

“Too far.” Louis pouts and shakes his head again. “That’s like an hour drive to get sand in the crack of my ass.”

Harry snorts, stepping into his pajama pants. Thankfully he wore his slippers. “Yes, but there’s also swimming, and whatever else people do on the beach.” He likes to go for walks or, if Elizabeth’s with him, she’ll have a game like croquet or volleyball or badminton. “That’s all I’ve got, Louis. Maybe you should stay in bed all day.”

“Only if you stay with me,” Louis says, scratching at the line of curls leading up to his bellybutton. 

“Ah, but I’ve got to drive an hour to get sand in the crack of my ass,” Harry says with a grin. 

“Now, see, that changes things. If I’d known you— Were you asking me to join you?” Louis asks, and Harry has to consider it. 

“Not really,” he finally answers. He takes a steadying breath and says, “But I… I wouldn’t be opposed to some company. If you wanted to come.” Louis raises his eyebrows and Harry tacks on, “As friends.” 

“Oh, um… Yeah, actually.” Louis tips his head, biting his lip, and Harry focuses on his eyes, refusing to look down. “When do you want to leave?”

Harry’s heart seems to be just getting the message that he’s practically asked Louis out on a date. He coughs into his fist and says, “Ten, maybe? I hadn't thought about an actual time. Was just going to do… whatever.”

“Ten’s good. You sure it’s okay if I come?” Louis asks, stepping closer and giggling quietly. “Kind of wish I had pants on.” 

“No, no, you’re fine,” Harry rushes out, squeezing his eyes shut as soon as he’s finished. “Sorry.”

“I’m glad you don’t mind, but, um… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. And I don’t want you to, like, do or say something you don’t mean—”

“As long as you aren’t naked at the beach, I think we’re good, Louis.” Harry turns and grabs the robe that was hanging under his own. “But, I assume this is yours.”

“Thanks.” Louis slips his arms into the fluffy blue robe and ties it loosely so his chest is still mostly visible. Harry mourns the loss of the rest of the view and reaches for the doorknob. Louis stops him and says, “I’ll walk you out.” 

Louis guides Harry out with a hand at the small of his back. Thankfully, it looks like Liam and Zayn are in their bedroom, so Harry makes it through the apartment without having an uncomfortable interaction with Louis’ roommates. Next time, he’ll suggest they stay at his apartment. There’s no point in lying to himself when he knows there’ll be a next time. Possibly today. 

It’s like he’s living someone else’s life. And really, he is. It’s just that ‘someone else’ is who Harry _is_ in his second year post-divorce. He almost doesn’t recognize himself. 

“I’ll come up to yours at ten,” Louis says easily, leaning one hand against the wall beside the door. 

“Okay, yeah. Sounds good,” Harry says, starting to panic about what he’s gotten himself into.

“Don’t be nervous.” Louis pushes away from the wall and leans in to press a kiss to Harry’s jaw. His lips drag over Harry’s scruff and he pulls away to open the door. “See you at ten.”

Harry nods and steps into the corridor, shutting the door behind him so that if Louis wants to watch him walk away, he has to do so through the peephole in his door.

▓▓▓

God, he’s just given up thinking. Inviting Louis to the beach is possibly the dumbest thing he’s ever done. 

Harry sits on the edge of his bed to step into his swim trunks, too shaky to feel comfortable doing it standing up. He gets to his feet and pulls the black shorts over his bum, reaching a hand down the front to tuck his cock comfortably in his tight swimsuit, before sitting back down to slip on his flowy, red, hibiscus print shorts. Turning side to side, Harry adjusts the waistband of his shorts, making sure most of his stretch marks are covered, then pulls on the matching Hawaiian shirt. 

He desperately wants to talk to someone about Louis, but the last thing he wants to do is tell someone that he and Louis slept together outside of heat or rut. And yet, that’s exactly what he’s going to do by taking Louis to the beach. Granted, most people who see them together won’t assume Louis is… whatever he is to Harry _,_ so there’s that extra layer of humiliation for Harry to look forward to. 

Rather than a pseudo-vacation, Harry’s going to have to make a decision at some point today. 

Louis rings the bell two minutes before ten and Harry hurries to open the door, still fanning the second layer of scent neutralizers dry.

“Ready?” Louis beams at him from under a red Louisville Cardinals baseball cap and Harry can’t help but grin back. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, lifting the cooler in his hand. “Packed some snacks.”

Thankfully Harry did plan ahead, cleaning his car, and filling the gas tank the day before. And as soon as he invited Louis, Harry packed some extras in the trunk and went ahead and put the top down, hoping that if he’s well prepared Louis won’t fight to take his own vehicle. 

When Harry says he’d like to drive, he expects some disagreement, but Louis simply nods and says with a laugh, “If I had a car like that, I’d want to drive too.”

“Don’t you drive?” Harry asks, once he’s gotten them out of traffic and on the way to the beach. 

“Yeah, but not often. Was thinking of selling my car, actually.”

“Really?” Harry couldn’t live without his.

“Well, I skate to work most days, so—”

“Skate?” 

“Skateboard,” Louis says, and Harry’s mind flashes back to that day at the park, Louis’ sweat-damp hair, and his scent.

“What do you do?” Harry asks quickly before he can change his mind. They’ve known each other for months now, but Harry doesn’t know anything about him. 

Louis leans the passenger seat back a bit and pulls his hat off, holding it on his lap. Harry has to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road, but he can’t stop glancing over to watch the wind blow Louis’ hair around.

“I manage the Crescent Street Performing Arts Theater,” Louis says.

“Really? That sounds interesting,” Harry says. 

“Can be. Sometimes it’s boring. Like any other job, I guess.” Louis reaches over and taps the back of Harry’s hand where it rests on the gearshift. “You want to talk about your job?”

“No!” Harry jerks around to look at Louis, who laughs into his fist, and says, “Sorry! Sorry. I just don’t… I actually… Never mind.”

Louis sits up and trails the tip of his finger from the crook of Harry’s elbow to the bone in his wrist, and quietly asks, “May I?”

“Yes,” Harry breathes, though he has no idea what Louis is asking. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes on the road when Louis lifts his wrist and places a kiss on Harry’s birthmark. He loses the battle with himself and glances over when Louis lowers his hand back down and traces over the veins on the back of his hand. “What was that for?” Harry asks.

“No reason, really,” Louis says. He caresses the top of each of Harry’s fingers in turn. “What were you saying about your job?”

“Oh, um…” Harry lets Louis turn his hand over, palm facing up, and watches silently while Louis laces their fingers together. He lifts his eyes to look at the road, tightening his grip on the wheel with his other hand. “I, um… When the girls were little, and I went back to work, I promised them that I wouldn’t bring work home with me. Which, well, was a lie. But I also promised I wouldn’t talk about work when I wasn’t working. That one stuck.”

“You’re a good dad,” Louis says, and Harry scoffs. “What?”

“I mean… Thank you. But I’d say passable at best. I could’ve done better. Especially when they were little.” Harry shakes his head and looks over to see Louis watching him through narrowed eyes.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree, then.” 

“I suppose,” Harry says. 

Sometimes he wonders if he made a mistake, having children. Though he doesn’t think about that nearly as often as he did when the girls were younger, the divorce brought it all back up. Now he wonders if he’ll have grandchildren. 

Harry wiggles his fingers in Louis’ hand, loosening his hold, and puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Glad that part of my life’s over.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. The girls are grown. Maybe one day I’ll be a grandpa, maybe not. Can’t imagine any of my kids as parents right now. We’ll see in a few years.” Harry pulls into the parking lot, circling around to find an empty space. He wants to ask Louis what his plans are, what his future looks like, if he wants to have kids or get married or adopt a dog or a cat. Instead, he says, “You still have all of that to look forward to. I mean, if you decide to have kids at some point.”

“I’d like to. But it’s not like…” Louis points to a van leaving a space on the next row, and Harry turns in that direction. He waits for Louis to finish his thought, but he seems content, straightening his hat on top of his windblown hair. And speaking of, the second Harry parks the car, he reaches into the back for his wide brim straw hat. 

“More crowded than I thought it’d be,” Louis says, climbing out and leaning against the hood of Harry’s car. “You want to carry everything down now or do you think we should go find a spot first?”

Harry hums and adjusts his hat. “We could just go for a walk by the water.”

“If we don’t sit, we don’t need chairs. Got it.”

“That’s one way to put it, I guess.” Harry locks everything in the trunk and slips his keys into his pocket. Despite the large parking lot, the access to the beach is narrow, and Louis follows him through the dunes. 

There are people everywhere. Thankfully the tide seems to be going out, and there’s a break in the crowds along the water’s edge. Louis falls into step beside him, and Harry watches him in his peripheral vision. 

“I meant to say earlier that, yeah, I want to be a dad one day. But like, there’s no guarantee, you know?” Louis dodges a little girl running towards the water, and laughs, crinkles at the corners of his eyes visible, even with his aviator sunglasses on. “Anything could happen. The person I fall in love with might not want to have kids or maybe they can’t, and like, adoption is expensive and might not work out, and like… I don’t know. It’s not a deal breaker for me.” 

Harry hums, tucking his lip between his teeth. He watches their shadows as the water washes over their feet. Louis cups Harry’s elbow, tipping his head to the side, and Harry nods. They walk in a wide arc around an elaborate sand castle made from dripping mud, and Louis shoots the guy building it a thumbs up. Harry makes an effort to look around more, instead of staring off at the ocean, smiling as they pass other people walking in the opposite direction. His stomach drops when they walk by two men, standing side by side, one about Harry’s age and one older, probably near his own father’s age, or the age he _would_ be, if he were still alive. They’re clearly father and son—if not, the resemblance is uncanny—and while somewhere in the back of his head he knew that people might assume certain things… 

“Hey,” Louis says, hand stroking the back of Harry’s bicep. “What’s up? You smell… I don’t know. The neutralizers mask it, but you’re… unsettled, maybe.”

“You can—” Harry looks to be sure no one’s close enough to overhear. “You can smell that?”

Louis shrugs. “Not really. Your neutralizers do a good job, but, um… it’s hot out. Makes you sweat. Which doesn’t always… You know.”

“Oh,” Harry says. He does know that. He feels a bit sluggish, so he stops walking and Louis stops too. “Can you swim in what you’ve got on?”

Looking down at his t-shirt and shorts, Louis says, “Yeah. I mean… Yeah. Why? You want to go in the water?” Harry nods. Louis jerks a thumb towards the water and says, “Here?” Harry nods again. “Okay.”

Louis starts up the beach away from the water, holding his hat in his hand, tugging his t-shirt over his head. It takes Harry a second to catch up mentally and then he has to catch up physically. Fortunately he doesn’t have to unbutton his shirt, the red floral fabric is loose and flowy enough that it slips easily over his head. While Louis is folding up his t-shirt, Harry steps out of his shorts, laying them, his shirt, and his hat on top of his sandals. 

After Louis sets his things beside Harry's, he straightens up, mouth falling open. He snaps it closed and breathes deeply through his nose, blatantly letting his gaze travel over Harry's body. “Swimming?” Harry nods, walking beside him towards the water, looking over at Louis when he says, “Actually swimming or just like… being in the water?”

“Oh… No. No actual swimming today. Just being in the water sounds good.” 

They don’t speak again until they’re past the breakers, standing in chest deep water, letting each passing swell lift their feet off the ocean floor. 

Harry ducks under the water to wet his unruly curls, belatedly remembering he’s still wearing his sunglasses, but they don’t float away, so he’s happy. He grins and splashes Louis, who gasps and slowly sinks beneath the surface. When he stands, he’s a little bit closer to Harry. 

“When you said I smelled unsettled… I’d realized that people probably see us together and think I’m your dad or something.”

“Why would they think anything? Do you see strangers and think about how they know each other?” 

“I did earlier. Those two men—”

“The father and son that were searching for shark’s teeth?” Louis asks and Harry nods, frowning. “Harry, those two looked _just like each other._ And like, so what? What do you _care_ what someone you don’t know thinks of you? Or me, for that matter?” 

Louis comes nearer, half floating half walking, until he’s close enough to touch. He was smarter than Harry and left his sunglasses with his clothes, so he’s squinting hard enough that Harry can’t see his eyes until he turns slightly and blinks them open wider. 

“Can I kiss you?” Louis asks.

Rather than answer, Harry checks around them to see if anyone’s paying attention, but it seems like no one is. They’re alone this far out in the water. He pushes his sunglasses up on top of his head and swims into Louis’ space, knees knocking together where their legs float underwater. Louis reaches for him, but settles his hand on Harry’s shoulder, sliding it towards his neck. He drops that hand down into the water and cups it, lifting handful after handful of salty water to wash over the side of Harry’s neck. 

“Can smell you now,” Louis mutters, cradling Harry’s jaw and pressing their lips together. 

Out that deep in the ocean, the water rocks them gently, making it easy for Harry to wrap his leg around Louis’ waist. The salt water on his lips, the sweetness of his mouth, the heat, and Louis’ hands on him—one firmly in the middle of his back, the other hitching Harry’s thigh higher, pulling him tighter against him—make Harry feel like he’s floating. 

A wave, stronger and larger than the rest, makes them stagger, feet searching for the ground. They part, panting, and let the tide carry them in. On the way back, the sun is behind them, and even though it’s still early in the afternoon, it feels later. The water always makes him hungry and tired. 

There’s a cafe on the pier and by the time they get there, their clothes are dry again. Louis doesn’t seem to mind Harry eating his onion rings. Or his pickle. It’s going quite well until it isn’t. 

They’ve eaten and paid and packed up their leftovers, when Louis excuses himself to the restroom. He hasn’t been gone a full minute when the server appears again, and at first Harry thinks there was something wrong with his credit card, but then he remembers that he didn’t pay. The server says, “Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me if your…” he looks to Louis’ empty seat. “If he’s single?”

Harry doesn’t respond at first, too surprised to be offended, and then it sort of feels inevitable. He shrugs and says, “Yeah, I think so.”

The server comes back once Louis returns from the restroom. He hands Louis the booklet with his change inside and smiles, wide-eyed, glancing at Harry before turning on his heel and hurrying away. 

Louis scoffs quietly as he counts his change, pocketing the receipt and most of the cash, leaving a tip and another piece of paper inside the booklet. Harry has an idea what it is and it makes him feel smug, though not as much as it does when Louis opens the door for him and guides him out of the restaurant with his hand at the very bottom of his spine. 

“Hey, so…” Louis rubs his palm in circles on Harry’s lower back and says, “I’d invite you back to my place, but I’d rather go to yours.” 

Letting Louis lead him, Harry tips his head back, walking blindly through the parking lot. He looks up at the sky through his sunglasses and says, “Yeah. I’ll need a shower. Have some sand in some places.”

Louis giggles, turning to hide his face in Harry’s shoulder, sending a thrill shooting through his body. “Me too.”

▓▓▓

The whole drive home, Harry thinks about the waiter and wonders if it’s something that might… go away. If they were more comfortable with each other—if Harry were more at ease and didn’t always second guess himself in Louis’ presence, because, really, Louis is obviously fine touching him, being close to him… But that’s because it’s a _thing_ for him. Harry has to keep that in mind. Louis has a _thing_ for older Omega men. A kink. God. Harry blushes just thinking about the word. 

On the way up to Harry’s apartment, they both have their hands full, carrying everything in one trip. When Harry manages to unlock the door, he hurries inside in front of Louis and drops the bags in his left arm that he knows don’t hold anything breakable. 

It’s easier to shut the door behind Louis and carry the rest to the kitchen. Louis helps him empty the cooler and the bags and put everything away, and it’s familiar in a way that confuses Harry. He hums quietly, biting his lip and looking around his kitchen. 

“The waiter asked me if you were single,” Harry rushes out, unsure why he feels the urge to tell Louis something that was so embarrassing for him. “I told him you were.”

“I… There’s so much wrong with that. I don’t know where to start.” Louis steps closer, lifting his arms to rest on Harry’s shoulders, lacing his fingers together behind Harry’s neck. He rubs his thumbs up and down at the base of Harry’s skull and Harry’s eyes slip closed. “The waiter was rude. Doesn’t matter who I was having lunch with.”

“But the point is,” Harry says, voice slow. Saying it out loud, the thought is heavier. “I _am_ actually old enough to be your father.”

“But you’re not. And like… Niall’s my age. Do you worry what people are thinking if you’re at lunch with your assistant?”

“I…” Harry frowns and blinks his eyes open, finding Louis looking back. His piercing blue gaze is impossible to look away from. “I don’t. I hadn't thought about it—”

“So don’t. Don’t think about it.” Louis leans in and Harry closes his eyes, expecting a kiss, almost resigned to it, wondering how hard it would be to go back to heat and rut sex only. The tip of their noses touch first, then Louis’ forehead nudges his, and he says, “Harry, if it bothers you, we can— I mean, was this a date?” When Harry shakes his head, their noses rub together, and he grins despite himself. Louis’ voice is scratchy and quiet when he says, “Okay, well, we can just not go places. Together. If that’s what you want.”

Harry shakes his head again. “No. That’s stupid. I… It wasn’t meant to be a date, but it felt like one. And I… I don’t know what to call… this. Or why we have to call it anything. I’m… I’m…” Harry reaches behind his neck and pulls Louis’ hands free, backing up. 

“We don’t though. We don’t have to call it anything.” Louis closes the distance Harry just put between them and takes Harry’s hands. “I think we’re pretty good at talking, like… If we just say what we’re thinking… And keep saying it?”

Harry twists his wrists and slides his hands up Louis’ arms, pulling him closer and circling his arms around Louis’ neck. Resting his head on Louis’ shoulder, Harry whispers, “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” Louis asks, slipping his hands under the back of Harry’s shirt. When Harry nods, he turns his head, lips brushing Harry’s ear as he says, “That I need a shower. And that there’s room for two.”

“You’re awful. One track mind,” Harry says, tightening his hold on Louis’ neck, pressing his lips against the salty skin below his ear. He snickers at the sand he can see in Louis’ hair. 

“What about you? Thinking anything?” Louis asks, gripping Harry’s waist. 

Harry sighs. Anything, everything, nothing. His mind feels full and empty at the same time. He kind of wants to nap. Maybe he’s dehydrated. He steps away from Louis completely and fills two large glasses with ice cubes and water from the filter in his fridge. Louis watches him even while he’s drinking. 

Finally, Harry says, eyes on the calendar on the far wall, “Other than a shower, I’m thinking about Char’s birthday. She’ll be twenty-one, which… Her birthday is the fourth of July, and it’s… Well, I suppose traditionally we’ve done the same thing every year. Same thing we did every July fourth before she was born—go out on my ex-husband’s yacht to watch the fireworks. But this year it’s up to me, and I’m renting a house. It’s oceanfront… beautiful view. And I told Char she can do whatever she wants, within reason.”

“Oh, um…” 

“You asked,” Harry says.

“Rude,” Louis props his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes. “I was just thinking that I can relate. I know how it is with a holiday for a birthday. Mine’s Christmas Eve.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Louis shrugs and says, “It’s nice of you to make it special for her. Sounds like it’ll be fun.”

“You should come,” Harry clamps his mouth shut too late. 

“Might be weird,” Louis starts and Harry cringes. “Won’t your ex be there?”

“Oh!” Harry’s eyes go wide and he says, “No. I didn’t go on the yacht last year. We’ve sort of let the girls decide with holidays, since they’re all adults. And birthdays, they’ve spent with us separately. But he’s not invited to this.”

“Then I’ll come,” Louis agrees, nodding and grabbing for Harry’s hand. “Shower? With me?”

They really do have sand everywhere and there’s nothing sexy or romantic about the first few minutes they’re in the shower, taking turns under the spray, soaping up every inch of skin twice to rinse every grain of sand away. Once Harry’s clean, he applies a heavy conditioner to his hair and steps aside, letting Louis get under the water. 

His nose and the tops of his cheeks are pink, his forearms too. The line of pale skin where his t-shirt sleeve was makes Harry positive that Louis didn’t wear sunscreen. And while Louis rinses his hair and his eyes are closed, Harry lets himself look. From the line of his throat to the jut of his collarbones, his pert nipples, smooth stomach, gorgeous cock hanging soft and heavy between his legs… 

Louis clears his throat, a wicked smirk on his face that Harry quickly looks away from. Beckoning Harry closer, and guiding him to turn around with his hands on Harry’s shoulders, he backs them under the spray. He rinses Harry’s hair, still combing his fingers through his curls long after the last of his conditioner has gone down the drain. 

Gently, Louis nudges him forward, smoothing his hands over Harry’s back and down to cup his ass, running his fingers along Harry’s crack and making him shiver in the steamy, humid air. He glides his palms up Harry’s back, down his arms to his hands, and lifts them, planting them on the tile wall. 

“This okay?” Louis asks, lips skating over the wet skin of Harry’s shoulder blade. 

When Harry nods and breathes out, “Yes,” Louis lowers himself to the floor behind him and Harry gasps. “What— Oh, God… Yeah. Yes. Okay.” 

Louis presses a kiss to the bottom of Harry’s spine and Harry closes his eyes. He’s never had sex in the shower before. Never been rimmed outside of his most recent heat, and that memory is so foggy that while he knows it happened, he doesn’t remember much more that that—

Harry gasps again, dropping his chin to his chest and leaning forward to rest his forehead against the cool tile. With a quiet moan, Louis spreads his cheeks, licking him messily with the flat of his tongue. 

He swirls the tip around and nips lightly at Harry’s rim, holding him open, digging his thumbs into the muscles and licking over his skin. Legs trembling, Harry reaches back, grabbing Louis’ hair and pulling him away. 

“I can’t…” Harry takes a shuddering breath and turns around, resting against the wall, hard cock standing out from his recently trimmed pubic hair. “Take me to bed.”

Louis gets to his feet and turns off the water, climbing out and dripping on the floor while he dries Harry’s body. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Harry says, elbowing him in the side and taking the towel from him. 

Louis pouts and says, “But I like touching you.”

“Touch me in there,” Harry says with a nod towards his bed. He squeezes as much water from his hair as he can and that’s all he cares to do. He’ll likely need another shower after this anyway. 

He doesn’t need a shower afterwards. Louis rims him again, this time with Harry on his back, hips propped up on two pillows, while Louis buries his face between his cheeks. He licks him and fucks him with his tongue, swatting Harry’s hands away whenever he tries to touch himself, until Harry is writhing against the sheets, seconds away from begging. And then he sits up, slips two fingers inside Harry's hole, and takes his dick into his mouth. Harry comes almost as soon as Louis stretches his lips around his cock. 

Wanting to return the favor, Harry reaches for Louis’ dick, only to find it sticky and softening between his legs. Louis lifts one shoulder in a shrug, smirk tugging at his lips, and Harry rolls his eyes as he falls back against the mattress. 

After they catch their breath, Harry forces himself out of bed to change the sheets. And then he makes Louis leave. He’s nice about it. He even lets Louis kiss him against the door for so long that his face burns from Louis’ beard as badly as he does between his legs. But then he opens the door and ushers him out. 

They certainly don’t need to spend two nights in a row together. And Harry tells him as much before he shuts the door. That, and he tells him that daily sex is simply _not_ going to be a thing. He honestly doesn’t know what he was thinking, sleeping with Louis twice in two days. He’s exhausted and it’s not even dark outside. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Surprise chapter! Wasn't expecting to post today, but here's chapter 7!

Whatever they’ve decided not to call it, it goes well in the weeks leading up to Char’s birthday. Louis stays the night a handful of times, but never twice in a row, and usually on nights when they’ve bumped into each other elsewhere. He’s never known an Alpha to grocery shop as often as Louis does. 

The sex is… incredible. Aside from a few hiccups here and there—Louis seems to have an obsession with Harry’s nipples that makes him nervous. As long as Louis keeps away from his nipples, then it’s all fine. Amazing, actually. It’s not heat sex, but nothing else is, and it’s not like he can remember much other than the first hour or so anyway. Much easier that way for Harry to compartmentalize. It’s perfectly fine for Louis to suck on his nipples during heat—he can imagine it’s something he’d enjoy—but during sex outside of heat, it just seems… weird. 

And Louis is… truly lovely. Harry keeps waiting for Louis to lose interest, or for him to pull some typical Alpha nonsense. For something to happen. 

Nothing has. 

They sleep together a few nights a week. Sometimes they eat together. Louis will stay for breakfast or come over early enough to eat dinner. He’s asked Harry to lunch a number of times, but Harry always declines. It’s better if he doesn’t spend too much time with Louis. He doesn’t want to grow accustomed to his presence, when things are bound to end between them sooner or later. 

▓▓▓

For Char’s birthday, Harry rents a massive house on the ocean. With three floors and six bedrooms, a game room, and a pool, it’s too big, really. Harry can’t find anyone. Everytime he goes up to the room he claimed for himself, he comes back downstairs and everyone’s relocated to a different room. Or a different floor. By the time the party is in full swing, with the music up loud and Char’s friends crowded into the game room, Harry’s almost forgotten Louis is supposed to be there. 

He’s in the kitchen talking to the caterer when Louis walks in, hands in his pockets, looking gorgeous in _jean shorts,_ of all things, and Harry stumbles over his words, forgetting what he was saying. Thankfully, he’s already paid, and the caterer excuses herself. Harry doesn’t miss her amusement. 

“Hi,” Harry croaks, and clears his throat. 

Louis bites his lip and raises his eyebrows, looking around the room. “This house is insane.”

“I know. It’s a bit much. But one of Char’s friends works at the rental company, so I got a deal.”

“Nice,” Louis says with a quick nod. He looks down the short hallway into the game room, then rounds the kitchen island, stopping less than a foot away from Harry and leaning his hip against the countertop. “Haven’t seen you this week.”

“Been busy,” Harry mutters, looking up and down the kitchen island, but everything seems to be running smoothly. He turns to face Louis, fighting the urge to tug on the collar of his shirt and press his nose against Louis’ neck. “This has been worse than the parties when they were little. I mean, Powerpuff Girls cupcakes were pretty easy to make.”

“Love the Powerpuff Girls,” Louis says, tipping his chin up, and Harry kisses him without thinking about it, humming against his lips and pulling back when he hears himself and realizes what he’s doing. He pushes away from the counter beside Louis and turns on the sink on the other side of the kitchen to wash his hands. Harry looks over his shoulder, but Louis hasn’t moved. He smiles and says, “Your girls have a lot of friends. It’s crowded in there.”

“That’s nothing. High school was a nightmare.” Harry checks that the cake—an ice cream cake, homemade from a recipe of Charlotte’s own creation—is still frozen. Then, since everything seems to be done, he pours himself a glass of white wine from the fridge.

“Festive,” Louis says, holding an empty glass out. Harry pours too much into his as well and smiles. “Don’t you usually drink red?”

“White at parties or in public. No stains to your teeth or otherwise,” Harry says in a practiced, sing-song way. 

“Is that from a commercial or something?”

“Oh, no, um… Just something I’ve heard before.” Harry tips his glass to the side, slowly watching the wine creep up to the lip of the glass before he rights it. “You hungry?”

Before Harry can fill a plate for Louis, he’s interrupted by Gemma’s arrival, and she’s brought Anne, Zoe, and Alison with her. By the time Harry greets them, more cars have pulled into the driveway and Harry’s on host duty. He catches sight of Louis in the game room, playing pool with Alison, and uses the excuse of clearing away empty cups and balled up napkins to get a look at his bum when he leans over the table. Louis stands and slips his phone from his pocket and Harry frowns at the look of concentration on his face while he stares at the screen, but then Harry’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he hurries from the room. 

Louis  
  
**Louis:** Quit staring at my ass and let me kick Alison’s at pool.   
  


Harry laughs, trying to decide how to respond. A peach emoji. Harry scrolls through the food emojis…

“Hello, hello, hello, pumpkin!” Harry jerks upright at the sound of his ex-husband’s standard greeting. As if saying hello three times at once makes up for all the times he wasn’t there to say anything. Harry fumbles with his phone in an attempt to warn Louis, but it’s too late: Richard’s booming voice is coming from the game room. 

Jane pops her head in from the porch where she’s been sitting and ignoring the party for the most part. “Is that…”

“Yes,” Harry says with a sigh. “Your father’s here.”

“He wasn’t invited,” Jane whispers, scowling as she tip toes across the room to peek through to the game room. “Who told him?”

“No clue, but I…” Harry draws himself up straight and tall and tips his wine into his mouth, gulping it, and shaking his head. “I have to be an adult.”

“You can do it, dad!” Jane stage whispers, backing towards the porch again, and Harry wishes he could go with her.

Instead, Harry strides into the game room. Richard is tall and broad and takes up twice as much space as he should, so Harry sees him right away, and doesn’t settle his gaze until he finds Louis on the far end of the room, still standing by the pool table with Alison. He tries to say it all with his eyes—he wasn’t invited, I had no idea he was coming, I’m sorry, please don’t judge me by my ex-husband—but he doesn’t know if any of it comes across. Louis sends him a quick wink and the second Richard moves out of the way, Alison takes her shot, and they go back to their game. 

“Harry!” Richard calls across the room, which is completely unnecessary given the size of the space and the volume of his voice. And the fact that Harry doesn’t want to see or talk to him. 

“Richard,” Harry says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Forgive me if I’m surprised to see you. I’m almost certain you weren’t invited.”

“Oh, I saw the invitation on Char’s refrigerator. Went over to pick her up to take her out on the town the other night,” Richard says with a smug smile and Harry grits his teeth. 

“Richard! Oh, Richie! It’s so good to see you.” Harry turns to his mom and sighs, hooking his hand around her arm to guide her back to the living room. 

Most days she’s fine, independent, normal. And sometimes she’s not. She’s struggled with Harry’s move and the divorce, and in the spring he and Gemma had to take her car keys. Harry leads her over to the couch and sits down with her, only for Richard to enter the room and come straight over to them. 

Harry ignores them both while they chat, walking away when his mom stands up and hugs Richard. Even though he knows she doesn’t really remember the divorce and Richard’s affairs, he still doesn’t want to watch his mom fawn over the man. He doesn’t get far before he’s being herded back into the living room and forced to sit on the couch between his mother and ex-husband, with both of them telling him to smile, and the rest of his family surrounding him, while every person in the room with a phone takes _just one more_ ‘family’ photo. Gemma pats his shoulder sympathetically, and even his girls look uncomfortable standing behind them and posing for the camera, but nothing beats Richard—at Anne’s suggestion—planting a kiss on Harry’s cheek. 

Harry jumps up off the couch and heads for his room on the top floor, stopping in the kitchen for an open bottle of red wine and an empty glass. Halfway up to his room, he remembers Louis and stops, shoulders slumping as he turns on the landing to go back downstairs.

“Hey,” Louis says from the bottom of the stairs and Harry almost drops his wine bottle. 

“Oh, thank God,” Harry says, and he doesn’t mean to sound so desperately relieved. “I _did not_ want to go back down there.”

“Understandable.” Louis climbs the stairs, keeping his eyes locked with Harry’s until he reaches the landing, at which point he takes the wine bottle and says, “Where to?”

Harry leads him up to the third floor. There are only two bedrooms up there, both unnecessarily enormous, with a sitting room between, and a large deck accessible from all three rooms. He leads Louis through the sitting room and onto the deck. The sky is deep indigo, but Harry can still see the ocean in the moonlight. He can make out the silhouettes of people up and down the beach already setting off a few fireworks. 

“Do you guys do fireworks?” Louis asks, taking Harry’s empty glass from him and filling it.

Harry shakes his head, then sniffs the wine. It overpowers the stench of his ex-husband, so he takes a long sip. He rests his forearms on the railing, dangling the wine glass from his fingers. “We just watch other people’s. And usually go out at low tide the next day to clean up. Lots of discarded plastic bits from fireworks. Lots of litter. Some dead fish. It’s a good time. You should come.”

“Gross,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose. “But, I mean, yeah. I’ll come. When’s low tide?”

“Around one, I think,” Harry says. “You’d really come?”

“’Course,” Louis says, and Harry wonders why he’s surprised. He nods and Louis reaches for his wine glass. “May I?”

If Louis keeps asking him easy questions, Harry might do alright. With Louis this close, Harry can smell him just by breathing. And if he had to remind himself not to inappropriately sniff Louis before… Well, now that he’s on his second glass of wine and his ex-husband crashed the party, it’s all Harry can do to just stand there when every part of him wants to be touching Louis in some way. He wants to drape his body over him, bury himself inside him. Harry gasps quietly, holding his hand to his mouth. 

“What?” Louis asks.

Harry points at the beach, further down the shore, and Louis looks that way. In the moment that he’s distracted, Harry steps closer, inhaling deeply, breathing in Louis’ scent, the ocean breeze, and the faint smell of sulfur from the fireworks. Louis turns back and takes Harry’s wine glass, setting it on the railing, and reaches for him with both hands. 

“Can I…” Louis trails off when Harry pushes himself into his space, loosely circling his arms around Louis’ waist and resting his temple on Louis’ shoulder. Wrapping his arms around Harry, Louis’ fingers immediately find his hair, twisting the curls at his nape. He turns his head and presses a kiss to Harry’s jaw, lips dragging over Harry’s stubble as he wistfully says, “Wish I could scent you.”

“God, please.” Harry should be embarrassed by how quickly he pushes Louis’ collar aside and breathes him in. 

Louis laughs, loud and bright, as massive, crackling, blue fireworks illuminate the night sky. He turns his head and rubs his nose back and forth over Harry’s mating spot, groaning and pulling back with a pout. “Hate that I can’t smell you.”

“It’s fine. Just make me smell like you.” Harry tugs the neck of Louis’ shirt open further and nips at his collarbone. Louis jerks at the unexpected sensation and Harry says, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Just surprised me. You’re not normally, um…” Louis looks away, the exploding fireworks an easy excuse. He turns back, holding Harry tighter and whispering in his ear, “You’re more aggressive than usual. Outside of heat, I mean.”

Harry pinches his side and leans back, reaching for his wine glass. He sips it and passes it to Louis, watching his throat bob as he swallows. The second Louis sets the glass back down, Harry kisses him. Roughly pressing their mouths together, and licking into Louis’ mouth to taste the wine on his tongue. He mutters in between panting breaths and kisses, “I don’t want to smell like him. He wasn’t supposed to come. I’m sorry, I—”

“Hush,” Louis says, gripping Harry’s hair and tipping his head, angling him so that their mouths fit perfectly together. He drops soft kisses across Harry’s cheekbone and sucks kiss after kiss down the side of his neck, not quite hard enough to leave a mark. The first swipe of Louis’ tongue over his scent gland is a surprise, but his rhythmic gentle sucking and licking relaxes Harry and he can feel himself on the edge of getting wet. Louis hums and says, “There we go.”

The ocean breeze carries Louis’ scent away as soon as he releases it, but it lingers in the air between them, what little of it there is. And Harry inhales it directly, breathing through his mouth and nose, wanting to taste Louis any way he can. A series of three massive fireworks explode close by, one after the other, and they both jump every time, laughing when they wait for a fourth boom that never comes. 

Louis giggles against Harry’s lips, tipping Harry’s head back and kissing down over his Adam’s apple to the hollow of his throat. They jerk away from each other, backing in opposite directions when the door to Harry’s bedroom opens, and Elizabeth pops her head out.

“Dad?”

Out of sight, Louis shuffles sideways towards the entrance to the sitting room and sneaks back inside the house. 

Elizabeth says, “Sorry, Dad. But…” 

“Harry, Harry, Harry!” 

“Jesus Christ,” Harry mutters to himself, wishing he could disappear into the house like Elizabeth does, though she does mouth an apology. He picks up his wine glass and smirks as he takes a sip. “Richard. What do you want?”

“I just came up to say goodnight. No harm in that, is there?” Richard asks, crossing the porch and looming over him from ten feet away. 

The wind blows and the curls at Harry’s nape tickle. He scratches them and cups his hand over the side of his neck, hoping there’s no physical evidence of what he was doing.

“Oh, you stink of him. What is he, less than half your age I bet. You pay him to scent you, rough you up a bit?”

“What? No!” Harry combs his fingers through his hair and presses the backs of his hands to his cheeks. He tells himself for the millionth time that Richard is prone to exaggeration. 

“Trying to get me jealous,” Richard says, narrowing his eyes and nodding. 

“God, no. Just… _No,”_ Harry says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Good night, Richard. Now you can go.” Richard huffs when Harry points to the door. Surprisingly, he goes, so Harry rushes to say, “I can see your BMW. I’m going to stand here until you leave.”

“Fine, Harry,” Richard says, waving him off and opening the door to Harry’s bedroom again. Harry prays he’ll walk straight through without so much as looking at anything twice. 

“I’m serious, Richard. I divorced you. That means I don’t have to put up with your presence. So don’t come where you’re not wanted again.”

Richard nods but doesn’t say another word, disappearing into the house. Harry goes to the railing, and yes, he can see Richard’s red BMW somehow taking up enough space for three cars. He doesn’t have to wait long before Richard is pulling away honking his horn. 

Tipping what’s left of his glass of wine into his mouth, Harry silently toasts himself. He thought Louis would come back onto the deck when Richard left, but he hasn’t, so it’s possible that he’s gone downstairs again. Still, he wants to be sure, so he opens the sitting room door. 

“Hey,” Louis says, standing up from the couch and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I saw your ex-husband and um…”

“He asked if I paid you,” Harry says matter-of-factly. Louis snorts and Harry pulls him into his bedroom on the off chance Charlotte will be upstairs anytime soon. He leans back against the door and locks it. “I mean, it’s sort of similar, isn’t it?”

“What?” Louis squeaks. 

“No, I just mean my age is like a kink thing for you, right? You only sleep with me because you—”

_“Stop,”_ Louis interrupts, voice sharp, but without a trace of Alpha. He closes his eyes and sniffs, leaning towards Harry. “I have kinks, yeah. But your age isn’t one of them. The age thing is only a _thing_ for you, Harry. I… I feel like I’ve been pretty clear, but in case I haven’t: I’m _so_ into you.”

“I know.” Harry cringes, but Louis laughs. 

“How very Han of you,” Louis says. “But seriously, I am. I like you. I talk about you all the time. My sister Lottie works for me at the theater and she tells me to shut up at least three times a day because I’m talking about your lips or your dedication to your job or your love for your kids. I just…”

“Okay,” Harry says, unsure what he’s agreeing to. 

“Okay? You— You’re… Okay?” Louis giggles into his hand. “You’re going to date me?”

“We have to talk about it. There have to be rules. With my kids and—”

“Of course!” 

“But yeah, I’d like to. I don’t know where it’s going but that’s okay, I think?” Harry scrunches his nose and says, “Can we keep it quiet at first?”

“At first, yeah,” Louis says with a frown. “Not indefinitely.”

“Okay. Good. Yes. Can you scent me again?” Harry asks, holding his arms open. 

“Anytime, baby,” Louis says, smug grin making his eyes crinkle. He rakes his fingers through Harry’s hair and bends his neck, sniffing from behind his ear down to his shoulder. A cloud of Louis’ calming scent settles around them and Harry can make out his own scent beneath what’s left of his neutralizers.

After breathing deeply for a long moment, Harry takes a step back and checks that the door to the porch is locked as well. He definitely doesn’t want any other interruptions. Instead of going back to where Louis stands just inside the door, Harry kicks off his shoes and sprawls on his back on the bed. He wiggles his fingers, reaching for Louis, who hurriedly pulls off his sneakers and climbs over him. 

Louis raises his eyebrows and Harry places a hand flat to the center of his chest. 

“No sex,” Harry says, hoping that Louis will agree. He does, nodding easily before settling between Harry’s legs and capturing his waiting pout in a kiss. 

They kiss until Harry's breathless and has to pull away, panting as Louis leaves a trail of slow kisses down Harry’s neck to the faint scar over his mating spot. He nips lightly at it and Harry laces his fingers through Louis’ hair, holding his head in place and pushing until Louis sucks at the spot. Harry smooths his hands down Louis’ back, rucking up the hem of his shirt to feel his warm skin, sighing happily. 

Louis ruts against him and Harry can feel the hard line of his cock trapped behind the zipper of his shorts. As much as he might want to keep going, he has to stop things before they go too far. 

“Louis,” Harry whispers and Louis hums right below his ear, making him shiver. “I don’t… You have to go.”

Groaning pitifully, Louis lifts himself off of Harry and falls onto the mattress beside him, rolling over. He adjusts himself in his shorts and Harry has a hard time looking away. 

“I don't want to go,” Louis whines. “But Liam and Zayn are downstairs.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, drawing the word out as he cups himself through the thin linen fabric of his pants. 

“Not fair,” Louis starts, eyes widening when Char’s voice carries through the door from the hallway. “Shit.”

“No kidding,” Harry whispers, clambering off the bed, and pressing his ear to the door, listening as her voice disappears. “Okay. I think she’s in her room.” 

“I, um…” Louis stands, looking down at his wrinkled clothes and poorly concealed erection. 

“Jesus. You can't leave like that.” Harry searches the room, though he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. “Go in the bathroom. Ooh! Start me a bath, please. But also wash your face. And, um… Do something about that.” Pointing at Louis’ crotch, Harry jerks his head towards the bathroom and Louis disappears inside. 

Harry paces the room, stopping every few passes to listen at the door. He hears Charlotte leave her room after a little while, and when her footsteps fade away, he peeks out of his room to find an empty hall. 

“Is the coast clear?” Louis’ whisper makes Harry jump. He nods and Louis brushes his hands down the front of his shirt, catching Harry’s eye and raising a questioning eyebrow. “Do I look okay?” 

Harry scoffs, huffing a laugh. “You look gorgeous. As if you don’t know. There’s a mirror in there.” 

Louis meets Harry at the door and kisses his cheek. “Thank you. For giving this a chance. And for the compliment. You’re quite gorgeous yourself. Took forever to get it to go down.” He adjusts himself in his shorts again, and Harry feels blood rushing to his cheeks. 

Fighting his blush, Harry peeks out of his bedroom again. The hallway is just as deserted. “If anyone asks, tell them Richard pissed me off and I decided to take a bath. But try to, um…” 

“Don’t worry. I can be sneaky,” Louis says, then cups Harry’s face in both hands and pulls him into a quick and dirty kiss. He punctuates it with a smack to Harry’s bum and disappears, door clicking closed behind him. 


	8. Chapter 8

The next day, Louis shows up at the beach, along with Zayn and Liam, to clean up as much of the Fourth of July aftermath as they can. He and Harry don’t really interact, catching each other’s eyes now and then and sharing small, private smiles before going back to searching the sand for litter. 

In the late afternoon, as the tide comes up, Harry decides to make one more pass along the edge of the water. Louis stops him, walking right at him so that Harry can’t escape, which is exactly what it feels like. Realizing he’s holding his breath, Harry exhales and pushes his shoulders back. 

“Having fun?” Louis asks, and Harry rolls his eyes, hefting his bag. Holding out his hand, Louis uncurls his fingers, revealing a tiny, perfectly formed, pale orange conch shell. His eyes flicker from the shell to Harry’s face. “Would you want this?”

“I… I’m not sure where I’d put it. The kids used to collect them, but I never did.”

“Oh,” Louis says and carelessly tosses the shell over his shoulder. 

“Lou!” Harry clamps his hand over his mouth. _“Louis._ Why…”

Louis shrugs. “I thought it was pretty. And then I thought of you. No big deal.”

“Louis, oh my God,” Harry steps around him, squinting. Thankfully, the wet sand doesn’t sink with the weight of the shell the way the soft, dry sand would, and Harry finds it easily. He picks it up and rinses it carefully in the surf, shaking it dry and checking it for chips and cracks. When he’s satisfied it’s in one piece, Harry holds it out for Louis to take. “You’re going to the theater?”

He nods distractedly, examining the shell in his hand. “Should’ve thought this through. There are people _everywhere._ You’re not going to let me kiss you.”

Harry sputters a laugh. “Come by later. I’ll be home. Bring the shell and I’ll let you kiss me as long as you’d like.”

“Yeah?” Louis scrunches his nose and the afternoon sun glints off his beard. “What else?”

“Lots and lots and lots of…” Harry drags it out and laughs. “Talking.”

“See, if you’re trying to scare me off, it won’t work.” Louis shakes his head, and tugs on the brim of his baseball cap. “I love talking. Excel at it.”

“Right, well. Be thinking about, um… what you want to talk about.”

“Oh, I get to choose topics?” 

“It’s not a class, Louis. We’re adults. Talking. It’s just one of _those_ talks.” Harry doesn’t know what else to say. So far, he’s avoided the word relationship, but that’s what it is. 

“With a seashell?” Louis asks and Harry frowns. 

“No, the seashell is for the kisses.”

“Oh, right.” Biting his lip doesn’t hide his grin. Louis starts to back away and says, “See you later. I’ll text you.”

Harry waves, lifting his hand and wiggling his fingers without thinking. He drops his hand to his side. “Bye, Lou.”

“Bye, baby,” Louis says barely making a sound. Harry isn’t sure if he actually hears him over the roar of the ocean or if he just imagines Louis’ rasp in his ears. 

▓▓▓

Most of the talk is rather boring. Harry kisses Louis against the door when he shows up, shell in hand. 

They decide to tell Liam, Zayn, Niall, and by association, Shawn. And to tentatively wait, if things go well, until after their next shared rut and heat, which should be in early September if they line up, to tell anyone else. Depending how things go, Harry might want to tell the girls sooner rather than later. They’re incredibly perceptive, and he’d rather they find out on his terms. 

Louis is more concerned with their behavior around each other, and it’s his idea that they always ask each other about touches and physical affection when they’re in public. He says he’ll do it in private too, but Harry tells him to use his best judgment because he doesn’t want to be constantly saying yes. 

“It’s embarrassing,” Harry says. “You know I don’t care when we’re alone.”

“Still. I’d rather ask about some stuff,” Louis says, pursing his lips and closing his eyes. Harry kisses him quickly. Blinking slowly, Louis says, “Anything else? Or can we get back to the kissing?”

“Yeah, um… Listen. I know I said I don’t want to call this _anything,_ but… I have to say… I’m monogamous. And pretty vanilla in the bedroom. You said you _have_ kinks, but my age isn’t one of them. So…”

“Oh! Oh, that’s nothing, baby. Our kinks line up when you’re in heat.”

Harry stares, mouth agape. “I don't have _kinks.”_

Louis doesn’t say anything. He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak, but then he closes it again, furrowing his brow. 

“Do I?” Harry asks. 

“That was something I _did_ want to talk about. Our next heat and rut, I’d like it if you’d take lucidity meds.” When Harry doesn’t give him a yes or no, Louis says, “I just want you more _there_ with me, you know?”

“I’ll think about it,” Harry says, but he already knows he’ll agree. “What are you… What do you think are my kinks then, if I have them during heat. I wouldn’t want to be surprised.”

“Can we… Is it weird if I want to take this to the bedroom? Not for sex. Just… It’ll be easier to talk about it if I’m lying down, maybe.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” Harry whispers, wondering if Louis wants to lie down because it’ll be easier for _Harry._

Still in their clothes, they climb onto the bed, lying down on top of the blankets. Harry closes his eyes and folds his hands on his stomach, waiting.

“You love it when I suck hard on your nipples. I got a little milk last time and we both thought it was really hot and—”

“Jesus Christ,” Harry says, throwing his arm over his eyes. 

“This is why we’re lying down.” Louis reaches over and takes Harry's hand, pulling it away from his face. “I should say first that, um… I like everything we do. It’s like, so hot, and I come so hard, and God, so do you, it’s—” Louis cuts himself off when Harry squeezes his hand. 

“Is there anything else or just… the nipples?” Harry cringes, glad Louis asked to move to the bed. 

“Yeah, so, we both seem to like the idea of the, um... _traditional purpose_ of rut and heat.”

“Traditional?” Harry asks, and then it hits him. Bits and pieces of fuzzy memories come back—the lucid heat when Charlotte was conceived, and flashes of other heats, begging to be knotted and _bred,_ Richard telling him no, crying and trying to keep from leaking when he’d pull out the second his knot shrunk down enough. 

“Harry?” Louis’ voice brings him back to the real world.

“Sorry. Sorry. What were you saying?” Harry wipes his eyes, but they’re surprisingly dry. 

“Just that I don’t know if it’d be considered a pregnancy kink or an impregnating kink? Maybe both. But it’s hot—I know I keep saying that, but it is.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers because he’s polite and he doesn’t know what else to say. “I like to pretend we’re trying to get pregnant?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, rolling onto his side and resting his hand on Harry’s chest. “And sometimes that you _are_ pregnant. That’s incredible. God.”

“I… I started to say I had no idea, but I guess I sort of knew it was a thing with my heats. Easy to forget when I’m not like that all the time. Imagine.”

“Oh my God,” Louis groans, rolling onto his stomach and pushing his face into the pillow. He lifts his head and says, “My birthday is in December, if you’re thinking ahead?”

“Really?” Harry asks, bristling and trying to sit up. “Is it _that_ awful otherwise?”

“No!” Louis rests a hand on Harry’s shoulder and he lays back down. “It’s amazing otherwise. I just… I miss your face.”

“My face?”

“Yeah, you, um… Like to be on your back. Or on top. God…” Louis whimpers, circling his hips, grinding against the mattress.

“I do?” 

“Yeah, Jesus. Okay. Maybe talking about this wasn’t the best idea.”

“No, um… It’s good. I… I kind of want to see what it’s like.”

Louis whips his head up. “Now?”

“I… Well, I don’t have anything else planned, so—” his words are cut short by Louis flopping on top of him, and kissing his jaw and cheek before finally finding his lips. 

“Wait,” Louis says, pulling away from Harry’s mouth. “Do you think we should maybe talk more first?”

“No. No, we’re good,” Harry says, and Louis nods, sucking on Harry’s lower lip and releasing it to kiss his way down his neck. Harry still feels a bit anxious. It’s nothing Louis hasn’t seen or done with him before, and he _likes_ it. But it feels strange going into things with the goal of trying something different, and he stops Louis again, cupping his jaw and pulling him away from his neck. “Not the nipple thing, I think?”

Louis pouts, but says, “Yeah, okay. One thing at a time.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, loosening his grip on Louis’ hair so he can lower his head back down. 

“Welcome,” Louis says, lips brushing over the center of Harry’s chest as he crawls backwards, unbuttoning Harry’s shirt. “Gonna knot you, fill you up, stay in deep.”

“Yeah…” Harry watches the ceiling fan spin, breath hitching when Louis reaches into his pajama pants and cups his hardening cock. 

“You know,” Louis says conversationally, “Twins run in my family. Could have two babies.”

“Oh my God.” Harry shivers and lets himself fantasize about it—being young, being pregnant, and being told he’s beautiful that way. God, it’s all he’d ever wanted during his pregnancies, but Richard ascribed to the old-fashioned idea that sex during pregnancy was bad for the baby, and wouldn’t hear another word about it. 

Imagining himself round and big and happy and sitting astride Louis, filled with his cock, while he touches Harry reverently, gently stroking the swell of his belly, is surprisingly enough to have him fully hard and already wet. Louis makes quick work of Harry’s clothes, slipping his pants down while Harry shucks his shirt off his shoulders and throws it to the floor. Louis strips out of his clothes so fast, it pulls an unexpected laugh from Harry, and he cackles when Louis tries to kick his sweatpants off, but they get caught around his ankle. 

Scrambling back onto the bed, Louis giggles into Harry’s thigh, and sighs against his belly. He looks up and says, “Promise you’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable or like, anything. Just say something.” 

“Promise,” Harry’s rough voice cracks and he throws his head back on the pillow, clearing his throat. _“Promise.”_ Louis snorts, pressing his nose into Harry’s stomach, and Harry laughs, and says, “It’s just… It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“I mean,” Louis sighs and sits up, furrowing his brow. “It’s not something everyone does. But there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s not like it’s… It’s not a bad thing. It’s just sex. And we’re both adults.”

“Yeah, I… Okay, but that makes sense,” Harry says. No one else is there. No one else will know. It’s just the two of them. No one can see what they do. The only person who can see him is Louis and Louis thinks it’s hot…

“And, babe, we don’t have to do this,” Louis says, kneeling between Harry’s legs. “We can have sex however you want or like, not at all, if you want.” 

Harry shakes his head. “No. I want… I want to see what it’s like.”

“You’re sure?” Louis asks and Harry nods, but Louis doesn’t move or speak at first, trailing his eyes over Harry’s body so slowly that Harry squirms and lays his hands on his lower belly, spreading his fingers to cover the curved scar from his c-sections. Louis rubs down the outside of Harry’s thighs and says, “I read it’s good to prop you up. Makes it easier for conception.”

Harry whimpers as Louis reaches for a pillow, lifting his hips so he can fit it underneath his bum. He can see how easy it would be to lose himself to the fantasy during his heats with Louis. Sober and nowhere near his heat it’s a layered experience. On one level, he knows it’s just roleplay, that it’s a fantasy. A game. That he’s not really trying to get pregnant—God, imagine! But on another level, _he’s mating with Louis with the purpose of conceiving a child,_ and fantasy and reality are already starting to blur together. 

Pressing a kiss to the inside of each of Harry’s knees, Louis scoots closer, rubbing over the backs of Harry’s thighs until his legs relax. He can feel the cool air of the room along his crack, and tries to coax Louis’ touch lower by pushing into his hands. Louis ignores him and leans over, bending himself in half to press his nose against the crease where Harry's leg meets his torso. 

“Smell so good. Stronger here,” Louis says, nuzzling Harry’s thigh. He licks Harry’s dick from base to tip, swirling his tongue around the head, and Harry bucks up, chasing his mouth. Clicking his tongue, Louis shakes his head. “Not sucking you off. Fucking you full of my come, knotting you, breeding you.”

Groaning, Harry spreads his legs wider, and Louis wets his fingers in the mess his body’s making. He slides two past Harry’s rim, pushing them deep, pumping them in and out once his muscles relax, and scissoring them to stretch him enough to take his knot. 

On his back, bum lifted in the air, legs open, he doesn’t think he looks sexy. Far from it. With his Cesarean scar, stretch marks and loose skin on his stomach, his puffy nipples that always show through his shirts no matter the fabric, the creases and wrinkles everywhere from his neck to his hands to his knees, he’d think he was the polar opposite of _sexy._ But Louis seems to think differently. 

Louis sits on his knees between Harry’s legs and looks at him like he’s beautiful. He inches closer until the head of his dick nudges against Harry’s rim, pushing in slowly. The constant pressure and stretch is incredible, and when Louis settles deep within him, he reaches down, leisurely stroking Harry’s cock with one hand, and laying the other on Harry’s lower belly. 

“Ready?” Louis asks, pressing down lightly on Harry’s stomach, and Harry nods. Releasing Harry’s dick to hold his leg for leverage, Louis leaves his other hand resting beneath Harry’s belly button, pulls back and slowly fucks him. He rubs circles over Harry’s stomach and says, “Gonna fill you up. Make a baby. God…”

While Louis works his hips, moving slow and staying deep, Harry closes his eyes. He hitches his legs up, catching behind his knees, and holding himself open for Louis. It changes the angle enough that on the next thrust, Harry can feel his knot bump against his rim, and his body welcomes it. 

Loose and relaxed, Harry’s jostled with every movement. His legs bounce in his peripheral vision, and he lets them go to hold his belly with both hands, his mind overcome with the fantasy of carrying Louis’ child. 

“Please…” Harry’s orgasm feels just out of reach. A couple of strokes is all it’d take, if he could make himself move his hand from his belly to his cock. Instead, he reaches up and touches Louis’ cheek, staring into the deep blue of his eyes. Harry pulls his hand away, gripping Louis’ arm, and panting, “Breed me, Lou…” 

“Fuck.” Louis dicks in hard, slamming his hips forward. His knot swells fast, making them both whimper, and locking them together before either of them expect it. Louis grunts when he pulls back and it catches inside Harry. His shoulders slump and he reaches for Harry’s dick, but Harry knocks his hand away. There’s not much else Louis can do but circle his hips and grind against Harry’s bum while his orgasm takes hold. Harry clenches down on his knot, milking as much out of it as he can, making sure he’s as full as he can get. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Louis mutters, fucking into him with shallow thrusts so his knot rubs back and forth over Harry’s prostate. His hips stutter and he falls forward, catching himself with one hand beside Harry’s head. He cups Harry’s belly with the other hand, knuckles brushing against Harry’s dick, and says, “You okay?”

Harry nods and lifts his chin, pursing his lips, and Louis leans in to kiss him, groaning when he shifts deeper inside. Not ready to let the fantasy go yet, Harry asks, “You think… You think we made a baby?”

“Fuck yeah, I do,” Louis says, driving his hips forward again. He meets Harry’s eyes and wraps his hand around Harry’s throbbing cock, stroking him fast and shifting his hips back and forth while he talks. “You’re so full of me it’s leaking out. We _had_ to make a baby. Maybe we made _two.”_

Reaching around, Harry grabs Louis’ ass with both hands, squeezing and forcing him impossibly deeper. Harry comes, the two of them wrapped around each other, limbs tangled, Louis stroking his cock while his knot pulsates, locked inside. 

On his back like this, with Louis’ cock in him, Harry can’t move, but with his help, Louis maneuvers them around, rolling over until Harry’s seated in his lap and he’s leaning back against the pillows, propped up against the headboard. 

As their bodies settle together, and Harry starts to come down from the high of his orgasm, embarrassment starts to creep in. He hides his face in Louis’ neck.

“Hey, now…” Louis whispers, lightly scratching Harry’s curls. “Don’t.”

Harry shrugs and tightens his arms around Louis’ neck. “Was that okay?”

“You tell me. I’m still coming,” Louis says, wiggling his body so that Harry sways in his lap, feeling his knot throb with the movement. 

“Jesus.” Harry shivers, humming and pressing a kiss on Louis’ neck. “Okay. I guess it was… good?”

Louis nods enthusiastically. “It was. Really good. Wish it wasn’t pretend ’cause then I could fuck you when you’re big and your belly’s all round and—” Harry smacks his shoulder and Louis says, “What? I’m serious. Prop you up with pillows, fuck you on your side so it’s easy on your hips…”

Harry whines, tightening his body around Louis’ knot. “You’d really… You’d like that?”

“God, yeah. You riding me while you’re carrying my baby? Touching you? Making you happy?” Louis bucks his hips again and Harry laughs.

“Maybe… Next time we can pretend I’m in the first trimester. Bun in the oven, just starting to bake, not showing yet, but there if you know what to look for…” Harry taps his chin, wondering how outlandish it would be to buy a fake bump just to wear in the bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry presses the intercom on his office phone and says, “Niall.”

“Yes, H?”

“Are you sure I don’t have a lunch meeting?” Harry frowns at the speaker. 

“Nothing on the books. You have one tomorrow. Maybe that’s what you’re thinking of. It’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it. Thanks,” Harry says, releasing the intercom button with a sigh. He rubs his eyes and goes back to reading the screen in front of him. 

The intercom on his desk buzzes and Harry jumps. “Yes, Niall?”

“Louis is here,” Niall says, almost like a question. 

“Oh…” Harry slaps his hand over his eyes and says, “Hold on a second.” 

Harry groans quietly, pushing himself out of his chair. He knew he was forgetting something, but he didn’t put it in his calendar when he made lunch plans with Louis because the calendar is shared with Niall and he wanted to explain everything to Niall first, but he forgot, and now… He steps out of his office, blushing before he even sees Louis standing by Niall’s desk, carrying what looks like lunch. Harry’s stomach growls as if it can see the bags in Louis’ hand. 

“Hey,” Louis says, and Harry scrunches his nose, trying not to smile too widely. 

“Louis, hey. Can you… Can you go ahead in? Need to speak to Niall for a moment,” Harry says, stepping aside to let Louis into his office, and shutting the door. “Oh, Niall, I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Niall sits up straight. “What are you apologizing for?”

“Louis.”

“Louis?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you we’re… Well, we’re, um…” Harry frowns and pinches his lower lip, tugging on it. “You know that we’ve spent two heats and a rut together.” Niall nods. He knows Harry’s schedule better than Harry does. “Well, we’ve decided to, um…” Harry looks around his office, though he knows it’s empty. He hopes Louis isn’t listening at the door. “We’ve started sleeping together. Outside of heat and rut. And spending time together. We’re friends, of a sort. We’re, um… We have a lunch meeting.”

“A lunch date,” Niall corrects him quickly. 

Harry hums, clenching his jaw. “I don’t want to keep him waiting, so we can talk more after he leaves. And for God’s sake, if any of the girls call or stop by, tell them I’m in a _meeting._ And I’ll call them later.”

“Will do, H,” Niall says, and Harry joins Louis in his office. 

“Louis, hey,” Harry says, double checking that the door is locked. 

“Do you ever nap on this couch?” Louis bounces up and down a little where he’s sitting on the couch and Harry huffs a laugh through his nose. 

“I’ve spent several nights on that couch. If I’ve been working late and I’m too tired to drive home. It’s fairly good for sleeping.” Harry sits next to him and then stands up, taking off his jacket and draping it over the arm of the couch, before sitting down again. “I forgot to tell Niall about… us. I told him just now, but if he seemed confused to see you or—”

“He didn’t. Don’t worry about it. Can I assume he took it well?”

“Yes, of course. But that’s Niall. He already knew we were sharing ruts and heats. But I also forgot we had plans, so thank you for bringing lunch. Is that what—” 

“Yeah, I got you the vegetable panini and tomato soup.” Louis grabs the bags and finds Harry’s sandwich. “Actually, I’m early for our date. And I can’t stay.” Harry tries to pout while chewing and Louis laughs. “I’m filling in on stage tonight for one of the actors and I have to rehearse, so…”

“You’re acting?” 

“Yeah, I do it now and then. We’re such a small theater that it’s not a big deal. We don’t have actual understudies.”

“Hush. I want to see you on stage,” Harry says and bites his lip. 

“Not today. But maybe… I’ll see what I can do, okay?” Louis hooks his finger under Harry’s chin and rubs his thumb over Harry’s lower lip until he stops biting it. “Wanted to bring you lunch and break our date in person. I thought you might let me kiss you.”

“I’ll taste like veggie panini,” Harry says, swallowing another bite. 

Louis laughs and leans in, biting the corner off of Harry’s sandwich. “There. Now we’ll taste the same.”

▓▓▓

“There. Right there!” Harry points from the passenger seat of his own car because Elizabeth insisted on driving. “There’s a space right there. Oh.”

“Yeah, it’s not a space,” Jane says from the back seat. 

“Just park on the next street and we’ll walk.” Charlotte pulls herself up close behind Harry and says, “You don’t mind walking?”

“No, why?” Harry looks back over his shoulder at his daughter’s concerned brown eyes. 

“I thought your hip was bothering you,” she says. 

“Oh, no, I went to my chiropractor. I was running a few extra miles a week, and I think maybe I’ll just swim more laps.” Harry waits for Elizabeth to parallel park, and opens the door, brushing his suit off when he steps onto the sidewalk. 

“Louis is starring in this play?” Jane asks, linking her arm with Harry’s. They all look nice this evening, dressed up enough that Char insisted on a photo of all four of them. 

“Not starring. But he was telling me about it and I thought it sounded like good dad-daughter time. Figured we’d all like it.”

“Well, I don’t know how anyone can think to fill the role of Miss Mona. Dolly did it perfectly,” Char says. 

“True. But no. Louis is playing a senator.”

“Nice of him to give us tickets,” Char says, slipping her arm through Harry’s other arm so that the three of them are in a row across the sidewalk, walking behind Elizabeth. Char snorts and says, “Neighborly.”

“Wasn’t it?” Harry purses his lips, fighting a smile while looking down at his suit. It’s not one of his typical business suits, but a similar style in a floral print. He loves it. And he thinks Louis will like it, though he always seems to like whatever Harry wears. If he unbuttons his jacket, in certain lights, his shirt is sheer enough to see his nipples. 

“You’re sure he’s single?” Elizabeth asks, though it’s the first time she's mentioned anything to Harry, which means that his girls have been talking. 

“I’ve never seen him with anyone,” Harry says, pleased with himself for figuring out a way to lie without actually lying.

“Yeah, but how often do you see him?” Elizabeth asks with a shake of her head. “He doesn’t live on your floor. He works some nights, obviously.”

Harry coughs, yanking his arm away from Jane’s to cover his mouth. “We’ve actually run into each other at the grocery store a number of times. Char knows. That’s where she met him.”

“Oh, well, then if he’s always alone…” Jane pauses and looks to Harry. “And shopping for one?” When Harry nods, she says, “Interesting.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, though he isn’t sure he wants an answer. A part of him wants to go ahead and tell the girls that he and Louis are dating, but it seems better to be cautious and wait until after his next heat. 

Elizabeth spins around to walk backwards up the sidewalk in front of them and says, “Maybe _you_ should go out with him.”

Harry scoffs so loudly that Char jerks away from him and Elizabeth turns back around. As he says the words, he regrets them, “He’s practically a child.” 

“Do you think I’m a child?” Char asks, but Harry just looks at her. She rolls her eyes and says, “Okay, but I paid you back the security deposit plus interest.”

“Am I a child too?” Elizabeth asks.

“You’re _my_ child. You’re an adult, yes. You’re better at being twenty-five than I was at being twenty-five. But you’re still _so young,”_ Harry says, and finds that he means it. 

“Louis is older though. Isn’t he like, thirty?” Char says, as if thirty is so ancient it might as well be fifty which is the same as having one foot in the grave. 

“Twenty-eight,” Harry says, admonishing himself for saying anything at all. “That’s still very young. And I’m not asking him on a date, so stop it.”

They collect their tickets and stand in line for popcorn and sodas, finding their seats long before the lights go down. It’s been years since Harry’s seen the movie, and it’s so well done on stage. The sets are sparse, but perfect. When Louis walks on stage for the first time, Harry lets out a small gasp. Next to him, Charlotte jumps in her seat, clapping, albeit silently. 

“That’s Louis,” Char whispers loud enough for Louis to hear her. He looks over and catches Harry’s eye, winking and turning back to say his line. 

“I know,” Harry says, barely making a sound. 

During the intermission, Harry uses the restroom first thing, regretting the large ginger ale he drank, though it did seem to settle his stomach. He gets a bottle of water from the concession stand, almost jumping out of his skin when Louis appears beside him, still in costume, with stage makeup on.

“Hey,” Louis says, voice breathy like he’s been running. “Couldn’t find you. If you guys stick around after, I’ll take you on a tour backstage.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I mean, I’ll ask the girls, but I’m sure—”

“Text me if you leave and I don’t see you?” Louis asks, grabbing a packet of Peanut M&M’s off the candy display. Harry nods and Louis takes his hand, dropping the package of candy into it. He looks around and then blows Harry a kiss before disappearing back into the theater. 

He shares the candy with the girls, but doesn’t tell them that Louis gave it to him. And when the lights come up, he doesn’t mention staying after, but he texts Louis as soon as he gets home. 

Louis  
  
**Harry:** Sorry. Got nervous about the girls being too perceptive for their own good.  
**Louis:** It’s ok. I’ll take you on a private tour another day.  
**Harry:** That’s an awful line.  
**Louis:** Idk I think it might work.  
  
  


After typing out and deleting his words a few times, Harry decides to go for it, and sends his first ever naughty text. 

Louis  
  
**Harry:** I was thinking I could make it up to you. You could stay in character, I could be one of Miss Mona’s girls.  
**Louis:** I’d rather fuck you as you and knock you up.  
**Harry:** Ok! Going to delete this conversation and I’ll see you when?  
**Louis:** 1 hour.  
  
  


Harry sends him a kissing face emoji and deletes their texts. 

It’s taken him a while to work up to it. They went from strictly traditional rear-entry, to missionary, which feels quite different, but is still a fairly passive, receptive position, at least for Harry. He knows some people are different. But climbing on top of Louis is a daunting concept, until he’s sitting there, stuffed full of Louis’ cock. Louis insisted on stretching him with four fingers, and Harry complained, but he’s grateful now that he knows what it feels like to ride Louis. 

At the same time that his entire body feels like it might catch fire, Harry’s frozen, unable to move at all at first. He starts with little rocking movements, back and forth and side to side, eyes closed and head tilted back. For just a second, he forgets that Louis is there, attached to his brilliant dick. Then Louis lays his palm on Harry’s stomach, right over his belly button.

“Lower,” Harry says, circling his hips, but not yet lifting off of Louis’ lap. Louis slides his hand down and Harry catches his wrist, guiding it until he nudges the base of his dick. “That’s where you’ll feel it first… Before I start to show.”

It’s the first time they’re pretending he’s already pregnant instead of that they’re trying to get that way, and it’s much hotter than Harry thought it’d be. At this point, he didactually expect it to behot. What he did not expect was how badly he would want Louis’ mouth on his nipples. It’s surprising, but it scratches an itch he didn't know he had. He comes fast, with a choked cry, watching as milk beads on his nipple and Louis licks it off. When his body clenches down on Louis’ cock, and his knot begins to swell, Louis tries to lift him off of his lap. 

“No, I want it,” Harry mumbles, grabbing Louis’ hands and lacing their fingers together as he settles back down on Louis’ knot. It grows and locks them together, pressing against Harry’s prostate and milking more come out of him. 

“Next time…” Louis trails off when Harry rocks his hips, and grips Harry’s love handles before rubbing circles over his stomach. “Let me knot you from behind. More comfortable with your baby belly.”

Harry nods, trembling as he comes down from his orgasm. Fumbling to push Louis’ hands away from his stomach, Harry snuggles closer, and Louis wraps his arms around his back instead, holding him tight. He pulls the blanket over them, and Harry falls asleep before Louis’ knot slips out. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> decided to split chapter 10, so it's posting as 10 & 11 today, making the fic 28 chapters total, which is better anyway!

August starts with back-to-school drama from two-thirds of Harry’s offspring. Char signs up for culinary school and hates it before it even starts because “everything will be basic and easy.” It takes a few conversations about the possibility of dropping out for her to change her mind. In the end, Char decides to stick with it because “it’s pretty much a guaranteed A and I’ve never been top of my class before” and the drama shifts to Jane. 

Amazingly, Richard steps up and suggests that Jane go to work for Harry to get a feel for whether she wants to attend law school. Something he always brushed off before. This time he says, “Your dad’s a better teacher. You’ll learn more from him.”

With Elizabeth going back to school as well, albeit in her position as the librarian, not as a student, it’s as if Harry is still in his late thirties or early forties, with children in secondary school. He feels like it, too, though he’s not exactly sure what he felt like at the time. It’s more of a blur in his memory. 

But whatever age it is he feels, it’s due to Louis. 

He even brings Harry chicken noodle soup, unprompted, when he isn’t feeling well. Harry bursts into tears at the gesture, and poor Louis holds him while he sobs on his shoulder about noodles. He only leaves Harry alone because Harry insists, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell Louis later that he wasn’t able to keep the soup down. But his stomach bug passes and Louis continues to be lovely, and as summer goes on, Harry feels like he’s floating on air. 

With Jane at the office, Harry has more time to _not_ be at the office. He works from home some, but mostly just works less, which Jane is clearly suspicious of. Niall, of course, is not. He keeps Harry's secret though and when he overhears Jane brings it up, Niall tells her it’s because Harry’s taking the time while he can before Niall goes back to law school. 

Somewhere along the line, Harry got it in his head that things between him and Louis could last, at most, until Louis’ thirtieth birthday. Something about Louis turning thirty, though it’s more than a year away, makes Harry feel even older. Thirty is _most officially an adult_ and at that point, Harry will officially be _elderly_ in Louis’ eyes. As well as the eyes of anyone else who might see them together. 

Harry’s plan is to ride it out, pun possibly intended. His sex life has been resurrected, though it was never this lively before, and he’s happy. The impermanence makes him want to enjoy the present more. That can’t be a bad thing. 

The only negative side-effect so far, is that he keeps skipping his workouts. It’s hard to make himself get out of bed at five in the morning when Louis is there, warm and soft and cuddly, even in his sleep. So Harry’s only been swimming or running on the days that Louis doesn’t spend the night. 

One morning, he wakes up alone and decides to skip the gym _just because._ He sleeps late, takes a bath instead of a shower, and when he finally walks into the office, Niall and Jane are surprised to see him. 

“Thought you were working from home today, Dad,” Jane says, fiddling with her laptop charger. 

“Didn’t expect to see you, H,” Niall says, winking when Jane looks away. 

Harry frowns, but recovers quickly. “Just came by to pick up some files. I’ll be gone so fast, you won’t even know I was here.” He dashes into his office, and as soon as the door shuts behind him, pulls out his phone to text Louis. He stares at the screen for a moment before deciding that he really should do some work. Besides, Louis is probably busy. 

Back at home, Harry sets up his laptop at the desk in his spare room, and manages to get some work done. He works through lunch, eating a sandwich while most of his attention is focused on his laptop screen, and when he stands up to stretch, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon. After a moment, he closes his laptop and goes to his bedroom to change into his running shorts. Louis may not mind Harry’s body the way it is, but he doesn’t like the way his pants are fitting, now that he’s not spending as much time exercising. 

He hasn’t run since he overdid it a few weeks back, choosing to swim instead, if he even makes it to the gym. But it’s the perfect opportunity to try again. Instead of the regular pace of the treadmill at the gym, he’ll take it easy and slow down when he needs to, while enjoying the outdoors at the park across the street. There’s a nice, paved path that runs along the edge of the pond, and it’s mostly shaded, so hopefully won’t be too hot. 

After lacing up his sneakers, Harry takes the stairs, considering it a warm-up for the few miles he hopes to run around the park. The playground is packed with children, and Harry slows down to step around a little boy riding a bike with training wheels. Near the pond, Harry speeds up again, feeling the rhythm of his feet hitting the ground. 

It’s quite a different view: picnics and games of badminton and dogs catching frisbees, instead of the television hanging in front of the treadmill at the gym. As he rounds the curve of the pond, Harry moves to the right edge of the path to allow another runner to pass on his left. He looks back over his shoulder when the woman passes him, eyes going wide at the sight of Louis on his skateboard. 

“Hey!” Louis rolls up beside him, and Harry has the sudden urge to jump into the pond. He keeps running instead, and lifts his hand to wave, focusing on keeping his breathing regular. “Can I ride beside you or is that weird?”

Harry nods, panting a bit. “Not weird. Don’t trip me.”

“I would never,” Louis says with a laugh, pushing off with his left foot to keep up with Harry. 

Thankfully, Louis doesn’t try to make conversation. And when the path inclines slightly, he has to work a little harder to stay beside Harry. They continue around the pond, Louis skating ahead and passing people going in the opposite direction, or slowing down to trail behind Harry when the path is too full. Every time Louis moves in front, Harry takes the opportunity to ogle his body. His perfect bum and shapely legs, the dip of his waist, and the curve of his biceps, all somehow accented by his basketball shorts and loose tank top. And his underarms, which Harry never would've thought he’d find attractive, draw his attention whenever Louis shifts his arms for balance. 

Harry runs for almost half an hour before he stops at the fountain to rest, hands on his hips, chest heaving as he catches his breath. Louis hops off his skateboard, stepping on the back and making it pop up so he catches it easily. 

“Thought you were working today,” Louis says, squinting in the sunlight despite the snapback shading his face. 

“I did. Worked from home today,” Harry says, unsuccessfully using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Got a lot done, actually. What about you?”

“I’ll go in later. Wanted to get out, enjoy the sunshine before I’m running around backstage. Feel pretty lucky, bumping into you.”

“Yeah?” Harry bites his lip, scrunching his nose, and trying not to be obvious as he looks Louis up and down from behind his sunglasses. 

“Yeah,” Louis says with a quick nod. “You busy tonight?”

“Thought you just said you’re working.”

“I am. It’s the last weekend we’re running _Best Little Whorehouse._ Thought you might want that backstage tour,” Louis says, grinning and winking when Harry meets his eyes.

“Oh, um… Yeah, okay. I don’t have plans.” Harry nods, lifting the hem of his t-shirt and wiping the sweat from his face. 

“Good,” Louis says, not trying to hide it when his eyes travel slowly over Harry’s stomach and chest. “What about now?”

Harry drops the hem of his shirt, and Louis steps closer, reaching for Harry and raising his eyebrows as if asking permission. As soon as Harry nods, Louis rests his hands on Harry’s hips. “Now? Showering. Maybe some laundry. You?”

“I’m on your to-do list?” Louis asks, pursing his lips. He pulls his hat off and turns it around backwards. 

“Not currently, no.” Harry presses a sweaty kiss to Louis’ lips and leans back. “I was asking what you were doing now.”

“I know,” Louis says. “I was kind of hoping you’d pencil me in. Could fit me in the shower with you.”

Harry laughs and rolls his eyes, pushing Louis away. “Race you.”

Sprinting off down the path, Harry heads home, dodging other people and their dogs, cackling when he hears Louis behind him, apologizing to someone for scaring them with his skateboard. He looks both ways and darts across the street, leaning up against the brick building in the shade under the awning to watch Louis approach. 

“I win,” Harry says when Louis is near enough to hear him. 

“That’s what you think,” Louis says, slowly skating closer. When he’s right in front of Harry, he pops the nose of the skateboard up, and grips Harry’s hips. Dropping the board back down, he faces Harry completely, turning his feet on the board and rolling back and forth, using his hold on Harry as leverage. He leans in, and whispers in Harry’s ear, “I got to watch you run in these shorts.”

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Harry smiles. “Alright, then. You win.”

“Yes!” Louis lets go of Harry’s hips, pumping his fists, and Harry takes that opportunity to step around him and inside the building. He runs up the stairs with Louis at his heels, and barely gets his key in the lock before Louis is pressed against his back, leaving hot, wet kisses on the curve of his neck.

“Lou! I’m sweaty,” Harry complains, but doesn’t move away from Louis’ touch. He pushes the door open, stumbling inside with Louis right behind him. 

“I know. You smell amazing,” Louis says, still draped over Harry’s back, hands tight on his waist. Harry groans, leaning his head to the side to let Louis have his way, despite the way his cheeks heat in embarrassment. Dragging his lips over Harry’s sweat-damp skin, Louis holds him close, slipping his hand down the front of Harry's running shorts. “Want to taste you.”

“What?” Harry asks, voice cracking. 

Louis removes his hand from Harry’s shorts, and Harry pouts at the loss. “Want to eat you out.”

“I’m disgusting!” Harry sniffs his armpit. He’s smelled worse, but he’s also smelled much, much better.

“You are not,” Louis insists, and Harry lets him spin him around so they’re face to face. This time, he slips his hand down the back of Harry’s shorts, fingers tracing over his crack. “You don’t have to, baby, but I could spend all day right here.”

“Jesus Christ,” Harry says, letting his head fall back. “How do you want me?”

“Ha!” Louis kisses his chin, pulling his hand out of Harry’s shorts. “I’d bend you over the back of the couch, if I thought you’d let me.”

Harry snorts, tearing himself away from Louis and hurrying towards the bedroom. He winds up on his bed, ass up in the air, face hidden in his folded arms, while Louis licks and sucks and nips at his rim, loosening him enough to easily slip his tongue inside. With Louis’ fist tight around Harry’s dick, he jerks him off, fucking him with his tongue. Louis buries his face between his cheeks, his beard scraping over the tender skin, and Harry comes, muscles spasming as Louis’ moans seem to travel through him. He falls onto the mattress and rolls onto his back, panting and staring at the swollen knot at the base of Louis’ cock. 

“You came?” Harry asks breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Louis answers, falling onto the bed beside him. “Love doing that to you. Especially when you’re sweaty. Didn’t know that was a thing for me, but I guess it is.”

“I have to shower,” Harry says, still not moving to get off the bed.

“Me too. And I have to go to work,” Louis whines, but he rolls over and kisses Harry’s shoulder. Climbing off the bed, he picks up his shorts and pulls them on. “Come to the theater later?”

“Will Lottie be there?” 

“Yeah,” Louis says, tugging his tank top over his head as he walks into the bathroom. “Oh. I didn’t think about—”

“We can tell her,” Harry says, raising his voice so Louis can hear him over the running water. “She probably knows something’s going on anyway, don’t you think?”

“You don’t mind?” Louis asks, peeking back into the bedroom while toweling off his face.

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. “I thought about telling the girls, but… It’s probably best to wait like we planned. But with Lottie… I think we can tell her. And I’d like to meet her.”

Louis grins and leans in, combing Harry’s hair back off his forehead. “Okay. Then I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll text you before I come down there,” Harry says, watching Louis cross the room. He forces himself out of bed, and puts on his robe, following Louis to the door. 

He takes extra care in the shower, gently washing the beard burn between his legs. And when he leaves that evening, it’s with a pep in his step, and a pair of Louis’ boxers on underneath his trousers. 

▓▓▓

“Lottie, this is Harry,” Louis says, arm slung possessively around Harry’s waist. 

“Nice to finally meet you,” Lottie says, reaching for Harry’s outstretched hand. “Are you here to watch the show?”

“That, and Louis said he wants to take me on a backstage tour.” Harry turns to Louis, and says, “Right?”

“Yep. Just wanted to pop in here and say hello.” Louis nods and proceeds to guide Harry past her behind the heavy velvet curtains. 

“Bye! Nice meeting you!” Harry calls back, and Lottie waves.

“See you soon!” she shouts, and Louis walks faster, taking Harry with him.

“You okay?” Louis asks, pulling Harry behind a rolling staircase that he recognizes as part of the set. 

Harry frowns, but lets Louis hold him close, so their stomachs are pressed against each other. He leans back and says, “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Not sure. I can’t smell you, I guess. And I didn’t know if you were comfortable with Lottie.”

“Lou, I barely spoke to her!” Harry knocks his forehead into Louis’ and says, “I’m good. Promise. I’d say something if I wasn’t.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. God, your sister probably thinks I’m crazy.”

“She knows I’m protective,” Louis says with a shrug.

“Are you? Couldn’t tell.” Harry grabs Louis’ hands and puts some space between them. “I’m not helpless, you know.” 

“I do know,” Louis says, gently squeezing Harry’s hands. “I just… I think maybe _I’m_ nervous?”

“Really?” Harry’s stomach swirls, but before he can work himself up, Louis laughs.

“Really. I… I like you so much, and I don’t know. I want you to like my family.”

Relieved, Harry leans forward and rests his forehead on Louis’ shoulder. He whispers, “I like you too. A lot. And Lottie seems lovely. I’m sure, if I spend more than ten seconds with her, I’ll know more.”

Louis pinches Harry’s side, and turns his head, kissing his neck. “Sorry. We could have lunch together next week, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Harry says, backing away. “Now, give me my exclusive backstage tour.”

“Exclusive?” Louis raises his eyebrows, taking Harry’s hand and leading him around the set pieces at the back wall. “Right this way is a dark corner where I’d like to kiss you.”


	11. Chapter 11

Before Labor Day, Harry stocks up on fruit and peanut butter. He washes his bedding and stacks fresh sheets and towels on the chair near his bed. Everything is as ready as it can be. He even ordered a special, organic, homemade creamy lotion for any chaffing that might occur. He gets waxed for the first time ever, crying more over the number of grey hairs he never noticed than he does over the pain. And he fills a new prescription for lucidity meds. In Harry’s entire life, he’s never looked forward to a heat more. He’s never really looked forward to them at all, so it’s quite a change. 

The theater does a special run leading up to the beginning of the school year—extra matinees on weekdays. They’ve both been so busy that Harry’s missed Louis much more than he’s willing to admit, even to himself. 

On Labor Day Monday, Harry has a morning meeting that drags on through lunch. And he has to cancel on Louis again. He insists that they have food brought in to the meeting, so that when it ends, he doesn’t want to murder anyone. Finally, they finish around two in the afternoon, and Harry texts Louis before he gets to his car. 

Louis  
  
**Harry:** Did you eat?  
**Louis:** No. Was just about to go get McDs  
**Harry:** I’ll bring you lunch. At the theater?  
**Louis:** Been here all day. Miss you  
  
  


Harry blushes. He’ll never understand how Louis can just _say things._

McDonald’s is on Harry’s way to the theater, so he gets a few of Louis’ favorites, plus an extra order of fries for himself, and texts Louis when he’s standing outside the backstage entrance. Louis greets him with a smile and, as soon as he pulls Harry inside and lets the door slam behind them, a kiss. They keep it fairly chaste, even though they’re alone. It’s Louis’ workplace after all. 

Harry climbs the stairs to Louis’ office, following right behind him, eyes glued to his bum the whole way. They’re barely through the door before Harry kisses him again. This time with teeth and tongue and one hand in Louis’ hair while the other grabs handfuls of his ass. 

“Harry,” Louis mumbles into his mouth, fingers tangled in Harry’s curls. “Let me eat first or I won’t have the energy… Wait. Is this…”

“No, no. It’s not heat. Checked my temp earlier. Feel,” Harry says, lifting Louis’ hand and laying it on his own forehead. 

“Yeah, okay, just…”

“Sorry. Sorry. I know you’re hungry and you’re busy and—”

Louis shoves a fry in Harry’s mouth and he shuts up. “I don’t _mind,_ Harry. I’d find a way to work with you on my knot if I could concentrate, I—”

“Louis!” Harry’s face burns and he smacks Louis’ arm, laughing and attempting to force two fries into Louis’ nose. “I have to work too.”

“Work from home,” Louis says, managing to keep a straight face by pressing his lips together. 

“I have to work with other people sometimes, and you’re the only person I want seeing me like that,” Harry says, clearing his throat and picking at his fries to avoid Louis’ curious stare. “Not that there aren’t usually people crawling all over this place, sometimes literally. Everyone gets the day off except the boss?”

“Well… I mean, I’m sort of trying to work ahead? I figured we’d be busy this week,” Louis says with a shrug. “But yeah, all alone here today.”

Harry takes a sip of Louis’ Coke, chasing the straw with his tongue, and Louis raises his eyebrows, laughing quietly. When he leans in and kisses the tip of Harry’s nose, Harry says, “You’ve had sex in here before.”

“No!” Louis balls up his trash and snatches his drink back. “You know, I… I know we met in a sort of unconventional way—”

Harry snorts loudly and Louis levels him with a look, which takes him by surprise. Not many people have been able to do that. His mom when she was younger, Gemma, and while Elizabeth’s been working on it, she’s too worried about hurting his feelings. Even Richard was never able to command Harry’s attention without using his Alpha intonation. 

“Are you going to the office today?” Louis asks, getting up to dump the ice from his cup into the sink in the tiny bathroom behind his desk. Instead of sitting back down across from Harry at his desk, Louis moves to the squashy, plaid loveseat on the other side of the room. He pats the cushion next to him and waits. 

When Harry starts to sit down beside him, Louis slips his arm around his waist and pulls Harry into his lap. 

“Oof!” Harry wiggles around until he’s sideways and can see Louis’ face. “Could’ve asked. You’ll break a hip.”

“If I haven’t broken your hip—” Louis taps Harry’s bum and pinches the softness of his love handles, making Harry jerk and whine. “You’re not old enough to talk like that anyway, Harry, I’m—”

Harry digs his fingers into Louis ribs and says, “I was talking about _your_ hip. Not mine.”

“Oh. Well I’m not breaking a hip either. Maybe a repetitive motion injury. Like tennis elbow.” Louis hums thoughtfully and Harry believes him for just a second. 

“You’re really awful. That was horrible. Worse than any of my puns. I don’t know where you get off, honestly,” Harry says, unable to keep his face serious, he buries it against Louis’ neck. 

“Not here, that’s for sure,” Louis says, and there’s something in his tone that doesn’t sit right. 

Harry lifts his head and bumps his forehead against Louis’, hissing when he does it too hard. “I interrupted you. You were being serious and I laughed at you.”

“Maybe?”

“I did. I’m sorry. That was shitty of—” Harry squeals and pulls Louis’ hair until he stops pinching his bum. 

“All I was saying is that we may have _met_ through the heat and rut matching service, but we’re not… That’s not _all_ we are? I know that you don’t want to talk about it, but you aren’t the only one with a history, you know?”

“I know. I don’t… I don’t like talking or even thinking about Richard. It’s…” Harry pauses because he doesn’t know how to explain his desire to cut out that part of his life when _he can’t._

“Wish I could smell you,” Louis says, cupping the back of Harry’s neck and rubbing his thumb up and down below his ear. He inches his hand down until he strokes over Harry’s mating spot. Unless someone is looking for it, his old mark isn’t really visible anymore. Leaning in and pressing his nose against Harry’s mating spot, Louis inhales, grunts, and tightens his grip on Harry’s waist and neck, licking over his scent gland. 

“You have a bathroom right there,” Harry says, pointing at it. “I can't believe you licked me, Louis.”

“Are you gonna wash it off then?” Louis asks, kissing the spot this time, but still with more tongue than might be appropriate for a Monday afternoon. “Are you sure your heat…”

“I didn’t think so earlier, but I guess it’s possible that it started right after I took my temperature?” Harry scratches his nails over Louis' scalp and holds him in place, feeling him smile against his neck. “I don’t feel like I’m going into heat though. I just feel horny, which is all _your_ fault, really.”

“You're the one who brought up having sex.” Louis’ beard scratches Harry’s neck as he talks, and he punctuates his sentences with kisses below Harry’s ear. “In my office. As if it’s something I do on a regular basis. So unprofessional.”

“Sorry, I—”

“Don’t be,” Louis says, bucking his hips up under Harry and making him bounce in his lap. Louis is halfway hard in his pants—a relief because Harry thought he was the only one affected. “I never have, for the record. But I want to, now that you’ve put the idea in my head.”

“I…” Harry bites his lip and wrinkles his nose, wiggling in Louis’ lap while he thinks. “I, um…”

“We don’t have to, babe,” Louis says, placing a soft kiss on Harry’s earlobe. 

“No, I want to. I just… I don’t think you should knot me. Pull out and you can come on my stomach,” Harry says. It’s the most efficient way to clean up afterwards, it’s just too bad they don’t have any towels. 

“There are towels in the bathroom too, so like—” Louis sputters a laugh when Harry hops up and heads for the bathroom, draping his suit jacket on the back of Louis’ desk chair on the way.

He doesn’t bother with a proper washing at this point, just wipes off his neutralizers, rifles through the cabinet for some towels, and rejoins Louis on the couch, this time facing him so he can kiss him for reading his mind. 

“I locked the door. And the theater’s locked too, but I, um...” Louis says, and Harry kisses him again. 

Circling his arms around Louis’ neck, Harry tilts his head, and Louis tips his chin, fitting their lips together. Before Louis, Harry was never one for kissing, though he can’t say for sure what he was like during his heats with Richard. But, as with everything in his life over the last six months, it’s different with Louis. 

After he slips each button free, Louis lightly drags his fingertips over the skin he just revealed, kissing both of Harry’s wrists as he undoes his cuffs, and both of his shoulders when he pushes his shirt down Harry’s arms. Being shirtless while still wearing part of his boring business suit, and making out with his boyfriend in his office, and planning to have sex there, is by far the riskiest thing Harry has ever done. Even though they’re alone and the building is locked, the idea that they could be caught is still there in the back of his mind.

Louis unbuckles Harry’s belt, pops the button on his trousers and reaches inside, wrapping his hand around Harry’s cock through his underwear. Tugging at Louis’ shirt—a polo with the Crescent Street Theater emblem embroidered on it—Harry briefly thinks about how beautiful Louis looks in every shade of blue before tossing the shirt across the room. 

Warm hands glide over Harry’s arms and back and Louis slips his fingertips inside the waistband of Harry’s trousers, dipping them down at the top of his crack, while Harry sucks kisses over Louis’ shoulder and thumbs over his pert nipples. 

“Stand up,” Louis says, patting Harry’s bum.

Feet together, Harry laces his fingers behind his back and Louis leans in, kissing the head of his cock where it peeks out of Harry’s underwear. He pushes his pants down, helping Harry out of them, and laughing when Harry takes them and his shirt and folds them, putting them in the chair with his jacket. 

Before Harry gets back to the couch, Louis shucks his pants, kicking them and his boxers onto the floor, and spreads a towel out on the loveseat. He sits, stroking himself, watching Harry cross the room to him, and reaches for Harry’s waist, holding him steady while he climbs onto Louis’ lap again. 

He’s wet. It almost feels like he always is when he’s around Louis, though he knows that’s not the case. But he doesn’t need much of anything to get going, and when Louis reaches around, tracing over his crack with two fingers, Harry wants them both at once. He sighs happily when Louis pushes them inside, plunging them in and out the second he feels how ready Harry is.

“God… So wet, babe.” Louis kisses along Harry’s collarbones and says, “Gonna knock you up.” 

Harry scoffs and leans back, groaning when Louis fits a third finger inside. When he catches his breath, he says, “Silly Alpha. Can’t knock me up if I’m already pregnant.”

“Yes,” Louis hisses, fucking his fingers in hard and deep, twisting his wrist. “How— How far along?”

“Seven months,” Harry says, resting his forehead against Louis’. 

“God. Fuck… You’d be so round.” Louis pulls his fingers free, urging Harry back a bit while he scoots down, positioning his cock. Instead of a steady hand on Harry’s waist, Louis lays his palm on Harry’s stomach, just above his belly button, and Harry trembles, shifting his hips until the head of Louis’ cock catches on his rim. When it does, Louis pushes his hand against Harry’s stomach, and Harry sits back, taking the first few inches quicker than usual. 

Harry bites his lip, breathing fast through his nose, then he lets his mouth fall open and moans. His body relaxes and he circles his hips, taking a little more. With his hands on his thighs, he gradually sinks onto Louis’ cock. 

Completely full, Harry drops his chin to his chest and lays his hand on top of Louis’ hand on his upper stomach. “Seven months, I’d be… here.” He takes Louis’ wrist and pulls his hand away until the back of it touches Harry’s dick. “If I lean over, it’ll…” Harry leans forward, guiding Louis’ hand until his cock is pressed against Louis’ stomach. He sits back again, gasping and twitching when Louis’ cock rubs against his prostate.

“Really?” Louis looks at his hand and then puts it back on Harry’s stomach, curving it out over an invisible bump, and then lays it flat again. Harry nods, riding him slowly, hands on Louis’ shoulders. 

It’s so odd how well he and Louis get along, how their interests seem to line up, their thoughts so similar. Watching Louis’ face while Harry fucks himself on his cock is fascinating. His eyes lock on different parts of Harry, like he’s memorizing bits and pieces of an image. He stares at the place where their bodies meet for so long that Harry looks down too, and then his eyes follow Harry’s cock as it sways with his movements, at his hand on Harry’s belly, at Harry’s nipples as he carefully brushes his thumbs over them. 

“Seven months… Sensitive? Do they hurt?” Louis asks, voice quiet and rough. 

Harry shakes his head, remembering that particular discomfort during each of his pregnancies because there was nothing he could do. He says, “They don't hurt. But… yeah, they’re sensitive. Feels… stretched? The skin feels tight?” 

Louis lifts up and kisses Harry’s collarbone, slowly pressing kiss after kiss in a line down to his nipple which he kisses and gently licks. 

Impatiently, Harry rocks in Louis’ lap, threading his fingers through Louis’ hair to hold him in place. The second Harry pushes against Louis’ mouth, Louis parts his lips and sucks his nipple between his teeth, and Harry grinds down on his cock. 

Taking his time, Louis works back and forth over Harry’s nipples, then pulls back, looking from side to side. “Can't see enough of you.”

Shifting sideways, Louis lays down on the couch, giggling when he bucks his hips up intentionally, tightening his hands on Harry’s waist. They situate themselves, Harry still astride Louis’ cock, Louis’ knees bent behind Harry’s back. And after a few seconds of Harry trying to keep it on the couch, one of Harry’s feet is still on the floor, which turns out to be an amazing addition. Harry rides him with renewed vigor, leaning back against Louis’ thighs and holding Louis’ hand to his stomach. He starts to rub Louis’ hand around his stomach in circles, as if he really were seven months pregnant and had that much of a belly. 

“What’s that?” Louis asks, gripping Harry’s waist tightly and stilling him. He puts his hand on Harry’s lower belly at the base of his cock and pushes, and Harry smacks his hand away, replacing it with his own. Pressing gently, Harry doesn’t feel anything, and opens his mouth to say just that, but then Louis puts his hand on top of Harry’s and pushes, and Harry feels it.

With one of his feet planted firmly on the floor, it’s easier for Harry to stand, and he does so in one quick movement, lifting off of Louis’ cock with a hiss. 

“No,” Harry says simply, shaking his head and striding over to Louis’ desk to put on his clothes.

Louis scrambles off the couch, mouth opening and closing like a fish, and Harry thinks he might have an inkling of what’s going on.

“This is not happening.” Harry pulls his underwear and trousers on in one go, and nods, slipping his arms into his shirt. He steps into his shoes, while still doing up his pants and stuffing his socks into his pockets. Slinging his jacket over his shoulder, Harry says, “Right. I need to go.”

“Wait!” Louis darts across the room to grab his own pants and steps into one leg. “Harry, you’re not…” Louis shakes his head in disbelief and Harry does the same thing, fumbling to get the door unlocked. It bangs open once the latch is thrown, and Louis says, _“Stop.”_

Harry freezes in the doorway, closing his eyes and hanging his head with a defeated sigh.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t… I can’t let you leave when you’re this upset. You could… You shouldn’t be driving,” Louis says. “Please… Just… If you need to be alone, I can go downstairs. I’m really sorry.” A quiet chuckle escapes Harry and he shakes his head. “Harry, please look at me.”

Slowly, Harry turns, crossing his arms over his chest, and meeting Louis’ eyes, but he keeps his mouth shut, unable to stop clenching his jaw. It was something he always hated about Richard, who so easily slid into the role of the typical Alpha. 

Louis nods once and says, “I’m sorry about the, um… voice thing.”

Lifting his hands, Harry makes air quotes and says, “The Voice Thing.”

“I used my Alpha inflection and I’m sorry.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything, watching Louis pull up his pants and tuck his cock away. At a time like this, he really shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful Louis manages to look in nothing but his work trousers. 

“I… I’ve actually only used it once before. My mom was always very…” Louis takes a few tentative steps closer, keeping his eyes locked with Harry’s. “She said it was for ‘emergencies only’ and she meant it. One of my Omega sisters, Daisy, was chasing after a ball, running towards the road.”

Harry nods. Every time he thinks Louis will act like a typical Alpha, he doesn’t, and the one time he does… He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head to clear it. 

“Please forgive me, Harry,” Louis says, carefully approaching him, and Harry rolls his eyes. He’s not going to bolt now.

“Don’t do it again,” Harry whispers, balling his hands into fists because he’s starting to panic again. He doesn’t know if he can do the sleepless nights, the exhaustion, the constant dedication that it takes to be a good parent. There’s a chance he just doesn’t have that in him anymore. After all, just the stress of the last half-hour has him feeling rundown. He looks down at his disheveled clothes and says, “I want to go home.”

“Oh, I… I can take you,” Louis offers, grabbing his shirt off the floor and pulling it over his head. He shoves his feet into his shoes without looking for his socks. 

Louis locks up, and drives them in Harry’s car. It’s not even a discussion. Harry doesn’t want to get behind the wheel with the state he’s in. And while he could walk home, he doesn’t want to leave his car at the theater when he’d just have to go pick it up again. His mind is all over the place, bouncing from the fear that it’s not actually a pregnancy and is instead some sort of cancer, to thoughts of his daughters and how they might react to the news, to what Louis is thinking, to the quick math of how old he’d be at each major milestone with a new baby.

Though it’s a short drive, with his unsettled thoughts, Harry doesn’t notice where they are until Louis cuts the ignition. He’s still a mess when he climbs out of the car, tripping over the hem of his trousers because he forgot to button them, but Louis grabs his elbow, a steady presence at his side. 

They go straight to Harry’s apartment—he knows Louis won’t want to leave him alone now—and as soon as they’re inside, Harry checks the clock on the wall. Almost four. He starts towards his room. “I’m going to bed. And when I wake up, this’ll all have been a dream. Nightmare. Oh my God.”

“Harry…” Louis starts to follow, but Harry shakes his head. As Harry backs into his room, Louis says, “I don't want to leave.” 

Harry stops in his doorway. “You don’t have to go. But I have to…” Shutting the door and cutting himself off, Harry trips over his shoes and pants as he tries to kick them off and strip out of his shirt at the same time. Naked, he climbs beneath his sheets, lying on his side and pulling his comforter up over his shoulder. Turning his face into the pillow, Harry skates his hand over his stomach, cupping just above the base of his dick. 

Rolling onto his back, Harry presses down in that same place. Right in the center, above his pubic bone, between his cock and his bellybutton, is a round, firm _something._ A _something_ that he only recognizes because he’s felt it before. 

A sob escapes his throat and he turns onto his side, facing away from the door, holding a pillow tight and burying his face in it to muffle his crying. He should’ve known better. He should’ve known. He should’ve… He would’ve been better off if he’d decided to spend his remaining heats without an Alpha, to let himself rot, alone and lonely. 

“Harry?” Louis' raspy voice comes from the other side of the door, but when he cracks it open, Harry doesn’t look up. “Harry, can— can I— Please calm down, baby. You’re scaring me.”

Another sob wracks his body and he curls even tighter around himself. This _cannot_ be happening. It’s all a dream and when he wakes up, _everything will be fine._

“Please, Harry. Let me…” Louis climbs onto the bed behind him, but doesn’t touch him. “I need— I want to scent you. Help calm you down.”

Harry barks a short, wet laugh. “Go ahead. Maybe it’ll help me sleep.”

Laying down behind Harry, on top of the blanket, Louis nuzzles the back of Harry’s neck. His scent fills the room, and it helps. Harry starts to feel better and his breathing evens out. Louis starts, “Can you—”

“Don’t… Not now. Let me…” Harry yawns. With his mind overburdened and his body feeling fatigued, Louis’ scent already has his eyes heavy. 

Carefully, Louis drapes his arm over Harry’s side, not pulling him in and barely touching him. Harry shakes with a fresh round of tears, and Louis tightens his hold and scoots closer to Harry’s back, stroking up and down Harry’s arm. Harry falls asleep, nose stuffy, tears still streaming down his face.

Harry’s growling and empty stomach wakes him around ten o’clock that night. He skipped dinner and only ate a few fries with Louis. Harry scrambles out of bed, throwing his robe over his naked body. 

He finds Louis in the kitchen, making tea of all things, and when Louis turns to face him, he looks worried. 

“I thought you might be hungry, but I didn’t know what you’d want to eat, so…”

“Toast,” Harry says. It’s all he thinks he’ll be able to keep down tonight. “Louis, listen, I think it’s best if we—”

“How far along? Do you know?” Louis interrupts, and Harry scowls. 

“Doesn’t matter. This… I’ll have to call my doctor in the morning. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Or even be _possible.”_ Harry rifles through the cabinet until he finds some honey for his toast, turning to find Louis watching him, still plainly concerned. 

“Are you sure? I mean, I…” Louis frowns and takes a step towards Harry, reaching for the honey he’s dripping all over the counter. “Do you want to go sit down? I can bring everything.”

Harry nods and wanders off into the living room. 

When Louis appears with tea and toast, Harry sighs. He’s so beautiful. And for a split second, Harry wonders what Louis was like as a child, whether he was loud and bright even as an infant. He jerks upright and shakes his head. 

“I can't do this,” Harry says, voice level and sounding much more collected and calm than he is. Though he knows Louis can probably smell his anxiety through what’s left of his neutralizers. 

“Harry, I…” Louis sits next to him, leaving at least a foot of space between them. “I know Google isn't always the best resource, but I’m worried. This isn’t necessarily a— a viable…”

Harry shakes his head, but then he nods. “I need to see my doctor. I need… I think… I think if it were an ectopic pregnancy, I’d be in pain. And there wouldn’t be… This.” He presses his hand to his lower belly, but doesn’t push hard, not wanting to actually feel his growing uterus again. At least not today. “And, while it could be something else—a tumor or cyst or some other sort of growth—I don’t think it is.”

They eat toast and drink tea and despite his long afternoon nap, Harry’s still tired, and he lets Louis follow him back to bed. This time he asks Louis to scent him, knowing that it will help him rest better, and it does. 

The next morning, he and Louis have their first argument over whether or not he should accompany Harry to the doctor. It isn’t heated and no one yells, but Harry bursts into tears trying to explain why he wants to go alone. He doesn’t even have a reason, but Louis backs off, as long as Harry promises to tell him everything afterwards. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! have 3 more chapters!

“Honestly, Mister Styles, the chances of this happening are very, very small,” Doctor Fitzpatrick says, gliding the wand through the gel on his stomach and watching the screen in front of him. Harry sees it all on the fifty-inch television mounted on the wall across from the exam table where he lays, back slightly elevated, feet in stirrups, and a piece of paper tucked down the front of his trousers to keep the ultrasound gel off of his clothes. 

“How small?” Harry asks, not that it matters. 

“At thirty-four, the chance of pregnancy after tubal sterilization is one percent. The older you are, the less likely it is to happen.” Doctor Fitzpatrick wipes the gel from the end of the ultrasound wand and then gets most of it off of Harry’s stomach before rolling her stool towards the door and flipping on the lightswitch. “And at fifty, without a tubal ligation, your chances are already less than one percent. I don’t know the percentage for this exact situation, but…”

“Okay.” Harry nods, voice strained from holding back tears. 

“Mister Styles… Harry,” Doctor Fitzpatrick stands, resting her hand on the doorknob. “When you’re dressed, I’ll see you in my office.”

As soon as she closes the door, Harry balls the paper up and wipes the rest of the gel from his stomach. He pulls his shirt on—thankfully he thought to wear a t-shirt because his hands are too shaky for buttons—and makes his way to Doctor Fitzpatrick’s office, where she’s waiting for him, seated behind her desk. 

“Have a seat,” she says, tapping a piece of paper in front of her that he has to lean in to see. 

It’s an infographic that he can’t make sense of now, so he closes his eyes and says, “Just… tell me what I need to know.”

Doctor Fitzpatrick gathers the papers, drawing Harry’s attention. He blinks his eyes open and she says, “First of all, you’re very healthy. That’s a huge plus. You exercise regularly and eat well, which is great, but I’ll send you home with some prescription vitamin samples today, just in case. You’re measuring right at twelve weeks, which lines up with your most recent heat, but that does limit your options.”

“What are—” Harry coughs and reaches for a tissue on her desk, dabbing at his eyes. “What are my options?”

“At twelve weeks, you’re too far along for the abortion pill. There’s a clinic a few hours away that will perform an abortion at twelve weeks, but you _are twelve weeks._ If you would like to go that route, I can refer you, and have an appointment made for this afternoon, or tomorrow morning.”

“I… Do I have to decide right this second?”

“No, but before five o’clock today. I’ll be here until then, but… Harry, since you’re an Omega, we’ll have to have the permission of the other father.” Doctor Fitzpatrick scribbles on her prescription pad and passes the paper to Harry. “That’s my personal number. If you can’t get me on the office line, call or text me there. But the clinic closes at six.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, folding the piece of paper, mind swimming. “And if I…”

“If you decide not to terminate, we’ll take it day by day. There are more tests to run because, yes, more issues and problems tend to arise in geriatric pregnancies.”

“Geriatric?” Harry huffs an annoyed laugh.

“That’s the term for pregnancies where the carrying parent is over the age of thirty-five, so it’s nothing personal,” she says, tapping her pen against her desk. “I know this isn’t something you wanted to happen. Talk it over with the other father, and will you let me know what you decide either way? I’ll be worried.”

Harry rushes to stand, his stomach swirling from the mention of Louis, even if not by name. Doctor Fitzpatrick shows him out the side door of the building, letting him escape to his car without having to see or speak to anyone else. 

The next person he talks to has to be Louis. And it’s the last conversation he wants to have. So he decides to get it over and done. 

▓▓▓

Harry parks across from the theater and waits on the sidewalk for a moment, attempting to gather his thoughts before giving up and crossing the street. On the off chance that the side door that leads to Louis’ office is unlocked, Harry tries it. It opens noisily and he hisses, then rolls his eyes. It’s probably better if Louis hears him coming. 

Silently, he climbs the stairs, taking measured breaths, not wanting to get upset again. Though he’s sure it’ll happen at some point. 

Perhaps he should’ve called or texted, but it honestly didn’t occur to him to do either of those things since Louis does expect him to come by eventually. After leaving the doctor’s office, Harry sat in the parking lot and cried, until his nose was stuffy and his face was red and he was too tired to cry anymore. When he finished, he drove to the theater. 

And now he’s here, standing in the open doorway, while Louis and Lottie stare at him. 

“Harry,” Louis says, exhaling like it’s the first time he’s done so all day. His evident relief is the only reason Harry doesn’t turn on his heel and leave. 

“Hi.” Lottie wiggles her fingers and smiles. “How’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Harry says, praying that Louis didn’t tell her anything about the pregnancy. “How about you?”

“Busy, too! Hopefully next time I won’t have to run,” Lottie says, grabbing a stack of fabric samples from Louis’ desk, and holding them against her chest as she heads for the door. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Harry says. 

“Harry?” Louis looks like he’s ready to chase after him, should he turn and flee, and Harry can’t blame him. 

“Did you tell her?” Harry asks. 

“No, I— I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

Harry nods. “I didn’t think you would, but we didn’t… We didn’t really talk about not… talking about it.”

“I know,” Louis whispers. “Are you—”

“Sometimes tubal ligations fail, apparently,” Harry says, figuring blunt is best in this situation. He looks down at his stomach because it’s still not real to him. “I’m twelve weeks pregnant. You’re the other father, obviously. I’m not— I’m— I’m _sorry.”_

“Don’t. Don’t apologize, Harry. We were both— I was there too.” Louis steps around his desk, arms outstretched as if to wrap them around Harry. But when Harry shakes his head, he drops them. “How did it fail? Do you know?”

Harry relays everything Doctor Fitzpatrick told him. That it’s rare, but eggs can get past the clamps, and once they do, it’s just… regular old unprotected sex. 

“I don’t understand how I didn’t smell it. How I don’t smell it now. There’s nothing different about your scent.”

“You’ve smelled me while I’ve been wearing neutralizers, in heat, and pregnant.” Harry ticks each thing off on his fingers, and says, “The first time you smelled me… The night with the pizza? I was already pregnant. You wouldn’t be able to tell a difference because there isn’t one.” 

“Oh, wow… Wow.”

“Yeah, I… I didn’t even notice, which…” Harry shakes his head, holding his hand to his heart as it starts to beat harder. “I’m going to, um… I think I should sit down.”

“Okay. Yeah, you want my chair or…” Louis stops when Harry goes straight to the loveseat and sits there. 

Looking around the office, Harry laughs, and then he cackles, tears streaming down his face until eventually the laughter fades, but he keeps crying. Just _yesterday_ he was sitting on this very couch thinking about how different his life had become and now… 

“Can I sit?” Louis asks and when Harry nods, he carefully lowers himself onto the loveseat beside Harry without touching him. “Whatever I can do… Whatever you want to do… I want to support you. Help however I can.”

Even without looking, he can feel Louis watching him, but when he turns to meet his eyes, he’s surprised to find they’re watery and red rimmed. Louis’ obvious distress is confusing, and Harry doesn’t quite understand where it’s coming from. Richard was almost indifferent to the news of each of Harry’s previous pregnancies, as if they didn’t really involve him at all.

“My entire life is… is… is up in the air. Undecided. God, so much of me… of this… of us… Everything since my divorce has felt like a step further, you know? Like… Like I was becoming more and more me, more independent, more _Harry_ than just someone’s husband and someone’s dad. And I… I don’t need help.” Harry lets his thoughts go and lays his head back, looking up at the water stained ceiling of Louis’ office. 

“I, um, I didn’t—” Louis clears his throat, and Harry drops his head down. “I don’t mean— Okay, so, I’m sorry that— that this happened. I am. I don’t— I wish there was more I could say, but I’ve never seen you as just someone’s husband or dad or _just_ anything. I think those things are part of you. Part of who you are and who you were and who you will be, but not all of you.” Turning on the loveseat to face Harry completely, Louis says, “But this… This is your decision, Harry. I have no right to weigh in.”

“You… What do you mean?” Harry asks, looking down at his hands, twisting his fingers in his lap.

“It’s your body. It’s your… It’s you. _You’re_ the one who’s pregnant. You’re the one who’d have to go through… I don’t know. Everything, physically? I’ve never… I mean, my mom had babies when I was a teenager, but I… I _can’t_ know what that’s like. I can’t—”

“I thought you meant you have no right like… like, um… rights.” Louis shakes his head and Harry slumps against the back of the loveseat. “My doctor said I have to make a decision by five o’clock today. I’m too far along to wait, if I want an abortion. And I… I don’t think I do.”

“You don’t?” Louis asks, voice hesitant and quiet.

“I had one. When I was twenty. The first heat I spent with Richard after we made things official. We weren’t married or mated, and I… I wasn’t ready for a baby.” 

“Oh,” Louis says, which Harry figures is an appropriate response. Only his mom, Gemma, and Richard knew at the time, and he’s never spoken about it to anyone else before. 

“Yeah. And this is… different.” Harry’s voice catches in his throat and the words come out cracked and broken.

“So, um…” Louis taps his fingers against his knee, and Harry wants to lay his hand on top of Louis’ to stop him, but he refrains, unsure what casual touches mean between them anymore. “We’re having a baby?”

Harry turns to find Louis looking at him hopefully, eyes wide. The corners of his mouth twitch upward. “It’s not a fantasy, Louis. Jesus. This isn’t a game.”

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“You didn’t have to,” Harry says. He clenches his jaw and then forces himself to relax. Stress isn’t good for the baby.

“Harry, I’m not— I know this is different.”

“Do you?” Harry asks, because it doesn’t even seem real to him right now. 

“Yes! I told you about all my siblings. My mom’s a midwife, for fuck’s sake.”

Harry cringes. “Sorry.”

“Baby, no,” Louis says, and Harry sucks in a sharp breath, turning to face him. He lowers his voice and whispers, “Sorry. It’s just, I— I know this isn’t some long-term roleplaying game. And I don’t know exactly what’s… what’ll happen. Like, I never went with my mom to doctor appointments or anything, so that’ll all be new to me. But I did rub her feet sometimes when she’d get home from work and I can—”

“You want to come to the doctor with me?” 

“I mean, yeah. Not if you don’t want me there, but yeah. That’s what this morning was about.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “I thought you were just worried about me driving.”

“Harry, I— I want to come to the doctor appointments, pediatrician appointments, all of it. I want to… I want to be a good dad. You— You’re an amazing dad. And I know your girls are grown, but I see the way they look up to you, and the relationships you have with them, and I… I want that. With, um…” Louis looks pointedly at Harry’s stomach, eyes flickering up to meet Harry’s, and says, “With our baby.”


	13. Chapter 13

Twenty-some years before, when Harry was pregnant with Charlotte, he had the book _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ and his own experience to lean on. Now he has _the internet._

He doesn’t need that, though, to know that he has very little time before he starts to show. Once his belly pops—he gives it a month, tops—everyone will know, whether he tells them or not. So Harry does the only thing he can think of to do: he lies. He texts Niall that his heat came on suddenly, so he’ll be on leave for a few days. Louis—God, Louis—Harry is back and forth between being absolutely livid with him for no reason other than his sperm motility, and giving thanks that, if this had to happen to him, at least it happened with the best Alpha he’s ever met. 

Because of the pregnancy, neither of them will be cycling regularly until after the baby is born. They spend the few days they’d planned to spend sharing heat and rut, getting used to the idea and strategizing. Harry wants to tell Gemma first, because out of everyone he knows that Gemma will be supportive, though she may well laugh at him. Once he’s told her, he wants to talk to the girls. If he has the support of his daughters and his sister, everyone else doesn’t really matter. 

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. 

“What about you?” Harry asks, after finally deciding to tell Niall too. He’ll do it all over the course of one day, and anyone else can wait or figure it out themselves. 

“Me?” Louis stops with his sweatpants halfway down his thighs, and Harry has to look away. They’re going to _sleep,_ together, they’re not going to sleep together. So he shouldn’t be looking at Louis’ strong thighs, and it shouldn’t make a difference that Louis is wearing loose fitting boxers when he so often goes without when they’re alone together. Or at least that’s how it makes sense inside Harry's head. 

“Yes, you,” Harry says, climbing under the sheet and pulling the blankets up. He’ll probably kick them off while he sleeps, but until then, it seems best to keep covered up. At least his silk pajamas are comfortable enough that he might keep them on all night. Watching as Louis settles next to him, Harry asks, “Who do you want to tell tomorrow? Lottie, I assume. Your mother?”

On his side, propping his head in his hand, shirtless and smiling at him, Louis looks so gorgeous that Harry finds himself wanting to forget their conversation and kiss him again, but he refrains. Instead, Louis scoots closer, takes Harry's hand, and says, “I’d like it if we told them together. I thought maybe you could come meet—”

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head quickly. 

“No?” Louis frowns and looks down at their joined hands. “I thought you wanted to meet my family.”

“Louis, I… I do _eventually_ want to meet everyone properly. But I can’t— It’s too much. My heart’s racing just thinking about meeting your mom for the first time and you breaking the news, I—”

“Oh, um, okay,” Louis agrees, but it’s clear he’s disappointed. 

“How…” Harry clears his throat, trying to stuff down his anxiety at the question he wants to ask. “How old is your mom?”

“Forty-seven,” Louis answers. 

“Oh my God, Louis.” Harry rolls onto his back and covers his face with a pillow. He thought, with Louis three years older than Elizabeth, Jay would be at least a few years older than him. Never would he have imagined she’d be younger. 

“She was young when she had me. Unmated,” Louis says, voice muffled by the pillow Harry almost wishes would smother him. “Met my stepdad a few years later.”

Harry lets the pillow fall and looks at Louis. “I’m definitely not coming with you to tell her. She’s going to hate me.”

“She won’t,” Louis says with a quiet sigh. “But I get it.”

“Are you angry?” Harry asks, trying to be subtle as he sniffs the air. 

“No, baby, I’m just… trying to understand.”

“I keep thinking about my girls. And how I’d feel if one of them was suddenly seeing someone twenty-two years older. I… I can’t say I’d be incredibly understanding. And I know I’d be upset if there was a… an oopsy baby.”

“Okay… Well, but you— You and my mom are different people, with different life experiences, and different thoughts and opinions.” 

“True, but I’m still not going to meet her until I’m ready to meet her,” Harry says firmly. 

Louis sighs, reaching up to brush a stray curl off of Harry’s forehead. “Okay.” 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, closing his eyes when Louis trails his hand over his side, resting it in the dip of his waist. He tries to ignore the fact that his waist—which he’s worked so hard to maintain—will soon be nonexistent. 

“What else?” Louis asks, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s hip where his pajama pants have slipped down a little. 

Wishing he could just blurt it out, Harry frowns, trying to put his thoughts into words. “Pregnancy is scary, even when you’ve done it before. Even when you’re twenty-five, mated and married to a man you think you’re in love with. And I’m… I know what you think about my age, Lou, but fifty is old to be pregnant. The chances of something going wrong go up as you get older and I… I’m scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Louis says, pulling Harry closer and kissing his forehead.

“I’m sorry.” Harry leans into Louis’ kiss, then pulls back. “I don’t mean to worry you.”

“Baby, no.” Louis nudges his nose against Harry's neck. “Don’t apologize. I… I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. But I _want_ to worry if it means you’ll worry less. I don’t know… I don’t know shit, to be honest.”

Harry inhales, letting Louis’ scent settle him as he rolls over to face him again. “At my age, there’s more to be concerned about. So many problems that can occur. More tests, more doctor appointments…”

“Okay… What can we do?”

“I’m not sure.” Harry slumps, sinking into his pillow. “I’m sorry. I… I've never…” Shaking his head and rubbing his nose against Louis’ neck, Harry says, “I don't mean to compare.”

“How can you not?” Louis combs his fingers through Harry's hair. “It’s a different time, you’re older, and my mom’s always said every pregnancy is different.”

“No, I mean you. You’re different. From Richard. He… He wasn’t… He was never really interested in my pregnancies. He saw them as Omega business and I think he was happy not to have to deal with it.”

“Does it bother you? Me being involved?”

“No! Not at all. I—” Harry sucks in a breath. “I like it. It’s better not to feel so alone.”

“Good.”

“You wouldn’t think it, but pregnancy is very lonely.”

“Whatever I can do to make it less… less lonely, less stressful, just… less of a weight on you, I want to do,” Louis says, and Harry blinks to clear fresh tears from his eyes. Pushing back the covers, Harry starts to sit up, but Louis stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“To get my laptop.”

“I’ll get it,” Louis says, practically bouncing out of bed. “Where is it?”

“On my desk.” Harry points in the general direction of the second bedroom, which he’s been using as an at home office, but which will have to be turned into a nursery. One more thing to add to the running list of tasks he has going in his head. 

When Louis returns with it, Harry’s already sitting up against the headboard with a pillow in his lap, and Louis snuggles up to his side. 

“My doctor said that since I exercise regularly, eat fairly well, and I’m in good health otherwise, I’m starting off with a good, um… baseline, I suppose?” Harry quickly types ‘advanced age pregnancy’ into the search bar and scrolls until he finds one that looks like it might be informative for someone who’s already pregnant, rather than someone who’s curious about getting that way. 

“Makes sense,” Louis says, eyes scanning over the webpage.

“I never had problems with my blood pressure or blood sugar before, but apparently it’s more common at my age.” Harry taps the screen and says, “Means I have to lay off the ice cream and stop skipping my gym days to stay in bed with you.”

Louis nods, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. “Can I… Would it be weird if I came to the gym with you?”

“Yes,” Harry replies instantly. “It’s an Omega-only gym. Plus, I don’t want you seeing me sweaty and panting.”

Snorting, Louis hides his face in Harry’s shoulder. “’Cause I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“That’s another thing,” Harry says, shrugging his shoulder until Louis lifts his head. “I don’t know if… I don’t know how much… God, this is embarrassing to think about, but I’m going to have to ask my doctor about us having sex.” Glancing over, he finds Louis watching him expectantly, so he takes a deep breath and continues, “I know it’s something you’re going to want, and I just want to be sure that it’s okay, especially at my age, to—”

“Baby, wait a second.” Louis sits up a little and says, “What I want doesn’t matter here. And I’m not going to want to— to have sex with you if you don’t want to.”

“I thought… I thought, since you, you know, like the whole pregnancy kink thing, you’d want—”

“Harry,” Louis says, cupping Harry’s face in his hand, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s lips. “I need you to understand something.”

“Yes?” With Louis’ hand on his cheek, Harry’s voice comes out muffled, and he laughs through his nose.

Louis leans in and kisses the tip of his nose, and says, “There is so much more to you—to this—than sex. I hate that you think that way sometimes. If you want to have sex, and you think you should check with the doctor first, then do that. But please, don’t do it on my account. Okay?”

“Okay,” Harry whispers, heart leaping in his chest. He forgot how much pregnancy hormones affect his emotions. “Do you, um… Do you want to hear about the other, um, issues? Things to be aware of, I guess?” When Louis nods, Harry says, “The risk of miscarriage is higher, preterm labor too, and low birthweight. My girls were all between six and eight pounds, but it’s possible this baby could be much smaller, which could mean health problems for them.”

“Is there anything we can do about any of that? Like, do you need to stay off your feet or eat certain foods or something?” Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head.

“No, not really. The doctor will keep an eye on things and let us know as we go, but I’d really like to avoid bed rest. That sounds miserable. I’d be a real pain in the ass, and you’d probably hate me,” Harry says, scrolling down the page.

“You keep saying shit like that, and I… I don’t think I could ever hate you.” Louis points at a graph on the screen. “What’s that?”

“This is what I was looking for. I wanted to show you the, um…” Harry enlarges the graph so they can both see it easily. “The chances that the baby could have some problems. Like, I… I don’t know anything about them, really. And I don’t know enough about the terminology, but I know heart defects are more common and there’s just… There’s a long list of things that they can test for and things they can’t and it’s overwhelming.”

“Okay, so…” Louis takes Harry’s shaking hand and holds it between his. “What are you thinking?”

Squeezing Louis’ hand, Harry slowly says, “I don’t necessarily mind having tests run. I… I like having all the information I can get, you know? But just… I think, if I were to have a baby with any kind of health problems, I’d want to know beforehand, so I could prepare. But it wouldn’t change anything.”

Louis kisses his cheek, and says, “I’ve never thought about it before, but I think I feel the same. It seems like it’d be best to… to know, so the doctors know, and so we can buy anything special we might need.”

Biting his lip hard, Harry nods. When he was pregnant with each of the girls, he didn’t talk these things over with Richard because he knew what Richard’s opinions would be, and he never cared to hear them. He pulls himself together enough to say, “Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For being you. For being wonderful and kind and for lov—” Harry’s stomach flips and he clears his throat. “For being lovely.” 

“You’ll have to thank my mom, when you meet her.” 

Harry hums, and closes his laptop, setting on his bedside table. “Seriously, though. Are you going to tell her? Lottie? Anyone?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, lying down to face him. “I need to go downstairs in the morning so I can shower and change. And I’m hoping Zayn and Liam will be up so I can tell them.”

“What do you think they’ll say?”

“Probably something like ‘what are the chances?’” Louis laughs quietly, and Harry rolls his eyes, turning to lay on his stomach while he still can. “They’ll be surprised, but they know, um, I’m a big believer in fate, and—”

“Are you really?”

“Yeah.” Louis kisses his shoulder through his silk pajama top. “Are you?”

“Used to be. Haven’t thought about it recently.” Shifting his body so he can see Louis, Harry says, “What about Lottie and your mom?”

“I’ll tell them both tomorrow. Probably Skype my mom because that’ll make her happy, but I’ll tell Lottie at work.” Louis smiles and Harry can’t understand how he can be so sure that everyone will be happy about the news. “They… They trust me. And when I tell them that I’m happy, they’ll be happy for me.”

“Happy?”

“I mean, yeah. I know it’s not what either of us would’ve chosen, but we’re— I’m happy with the choices we’re making now. And I like that we’re making them together.”

“I like that too.” Harry kisses him softly, pressing his lips against Louis’ twice before pulling away and yawning. “Need to sleep.”

Louis scratches Harry's scalp and says, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

It only takes Harry a moment to decide to roll over, and the second he does, Louis moves closer. He lifts his arm as if to drape it over Harry’s side, and then freezes with his hand stretching towards the ceiling, holding the blanket up. Harry snorts and grabs his hand, pulling his arm down and wiggling backwards until he can feel Louis’ bare skin against the strip of his back where his pajama top has ridden up. 

Laughing almost silently, Louis kisses the back of Harry’s shoulder, lips warm against his skin through the silk of his shirt. He slides his hand over Harry's hip to his stomach and Harry sucks in a breath, letting it go when Louis cups his hand over his lower belly on the outside of his pants. It feels odd, and a moment later Harry tosses his pajamas onto the floor, leaving his briefs on. 

Harry shamelessly cuddles right back up to Louis, closing his eyes and sinking into the heat of Louis’ body, with his arms around him. “’Night, Lou.” 

“’Night, baby,” Louis murmurs, kissing his shoulder again. He easily fits his palm over the invisible swell of Harry’s stomach, rubs his thumb up and down the trail of hair below Harry's belly button, and says, “’Night, little one.”

A small gasp leaves Harry's parted lips and he closes his eyes. Louis shifts behind him, and Harry takes his hand, moving it away from his stomach, linking their fingers together in front of his heart. He inhales and lets Louis’ scent pull him under. 


	14. Chapter 14

“What’s this all about?” Gemma asks, fingertips tapping on her coffee cup. “When I called your office yesterday, Niall said you were on heat leave.”

“I was,” Harry says, and looks around the little bistro to be sure no one is near enough to overhear. “I… Have you ever heard of a heat and rut matching service?”

Gemma nods. “I’ve heard of them. Are you thinking of— Oh. Is that what’s going on? You signed up for one?” 

“I did.” Harry sips his decaf coffee, and sets it down carefully, hands trembling. “My doctor recommended it. And, um…” he coughs and folds his hands in his lap. “The Alpha I met through it… You’ve met him, actually. It’s—”

“Louis!” 

Harry gasps and claps his hand over his mouth. “How did you know?”

Gemma barks a laugh. “You forgot your neutralizers this morning, and Louis has a distinct scent. He’s a young one.”

Inhaling deeply, Harry can smell the blend of their scents and he can’t believe he didn’t notice. Pregnancy always makes him forgetful; he isn’t even surprised that he forgot his neutralizers. He lets her last comment slide. 

“I’ll need to put them on before I meet the girls for lunch.” Clearing his throat, Harry waits for Gemma to look him in the eye. “When you had your tubes tied after Zoe was born, did the doctor say, um… Did they tell you anything about the possibility that you could still get pregnant?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, my doc didn’t want to do the tubal because Zoe was my first, but I was insistent that she was going to be my only child.” Gemma shakes her head slightly and rolls her eyes. “I think they were trying to scare me, you know? Gave me the stats on the tubal versus an IUD versus the shot versus the pill. And sure, there’s a teeny tiny chance, but it’s smaller than with any other birth control, and it’s permanent. It wasn’t a question for me. I knew what I wanted.”

“I don’t remember what they told me. I just knew Richard didn’t want more kids, and the tubal seemed the best option at the time, but—”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. It’s like a one in a million chance.” Gemma lowers her voice and says, “And you can always ask Louis to wear a condom. He seems lovely, honestly.”

“I…” Harry’s throat tightens and he swallows. Keeping his voice as steady and serious as he can, because the last thing he wants Gemma to think is that he’s joking, he says, “I’m pregnant.” 

Sometimes, when the girls were small, and they’d wake up on Christmas morning, their eyes would go as wide as saucers and their mouths would drop open in surprise at whatever Santa Claus might’ve brought them. This is the first time Harry’s seen an adult react that way to anything. It would be comical if not for the situation. 

When she finally closes her mouth, Gemma lifts her hand and a waitress appears at their table. “Can you bring me a Rusty Nail?” Harry starts to speak, but she shakes her head and he figures he might as well wait. Once she has her scotch, she holds up one finger and takes a swallow that makes Harry’s throat burn from memory, then she says, “I assume you’re telling me because you’re keeping it.” 

Harry inhales and all he can smell is Gemma’s scotch. His stomach turns and he has to breathe through his mouth, so he nods.

“Shit, sorry. I forgot how sensitive your nose is when you’re pregnant,” Gemma says, pushing her cocktail to the end of the table. 

“It’s okay,” Harry says, still holding his nose. He gasps and drops his hand from his nose to his mouth. “Oh, no, no, no. I’ve been drinking! I haven’t even thought of that! What if—”

“Harry,” Gemma says, voice sharp. “You never have more than two glasses of wine. And that’s over the course of an evening. I’m sure you’re fine.” Closing his eyes, Harry nods. “If you’re worried, call your doctor. But I think you’re okay. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Gemma sits back with a sigh. “This is bizarre.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry says, leaning against the back of his seat. 

“How far along are you?” 

“Three months.”

“Holy shit, Harry. How did you not realize?”

“Well, it’s not like I expected it. I’ve… I had the tubal twenty-one years ago, Gems. And to be honest, I’ve had more sex in the last few months than in the last ten years with Richard.”

Wide-eyed, Gemma takes a long swallow of her drink. “I don’t… I don’t know quite how to react to that.”

Harry raises his eyebrows and says, “Just say you’re happy for me and move on.”

She nods and says, “I am. Very happy that you’re… happy? Are you?”

“I… I don’t know exactly. I was. For sure. Louis… I mean, we’ve only just begun…” Harry waves both hands in the air between them. “Dating, I suppose. But he’s… Gemma, he’s a wonderful man. A good Alpha.”

Gemma hums thoughtfully and asks, “What about Richard?”

“What about him?” Harry gives an undignified snort and rolls his eyes. As if Gemma wasn’t there to watch their marriage fall apart. As if she wasn’t the one championing him when he filed for divorce. 

“What are you going to tell him?”

“Nothing. It’s none of his business. But, once I make sure you get home alright—I haven’t seen you drink scotch since Zoe wrecked your car—I’m going to talk to Niall, and then I’m meeting the girls for lunch.”

“Shit,” Gemma says, glancing down at the menus that neither of them have opened. “Should we order food?”

“Not as long as you’re drinking that,” Harry says, pointing at her drink. She purses her lips and nods, then tips the drink back and empties the glass. He’s always been impressed by her ability to stomach straight liquor, but today he’s just happy that it’s gone. 

“Okay, let’s order…” Gemma opens the menu and points excitedly. “Biscuits and gravy. You were obsessed with biscuits and gravy when you were pregnant with Charlotte.”

Harry shakes his head fondly, and says, “You order. I have to use the restroom. Again.”

▓▓▓

On the drive over to his office, Harry burps six times and has to stop off at CVS to buy some Tums. He immediately chews and swallows two antacids and pops two more into his mouth to suck on, but it doesn’t help, which means he’ll have to mention it to his doctor. And probably stop eating anything with flavor. If this baby is sensitive to dairy like Jane was, and Harry has to cut it out of his diet again in order to breastfeed, he might lose his mind.

“Niall?” Harry calls out quietly when he enters the office and doesn’t see him at his desk. He peeks into his own office, thinking he might be there, but it’s empty. 

“What are you doing here?” Niall asks, and Harry jumps, clutching his hand to his chest. “Thought you took the day off for heat recovery?”

“I, um…” Harry slides his hand down to rest it on his belly, but realizes what he’s doing before he makes it obvious what he’s about to say. He jerks his head towards his office, and Niall follows him inside. Behind the closed door, he thought it’d be easier to say, but it’s not. “I’m just going to say it.”

“Are you firing me?” 

Niall’s question gets Harry out of his head enough to laugh at the ridiculousness of such an idea, and when his giggles pass he says, “Never. I’m going to need you more than ever.”

“What’s going on?” 

“I’m, um… Well, you know that Louis and I have been, um…”

“Dating,” Niall fills in helpfully.

“Yes. Dating.” Harry nods, twisting his fingers together. “We’re… Well, I really— I mean, I suppose— Though—”

“Harry, please just tell me what the hell is going on.”

“We’re having a baby,” Harry says, managing not to stumble over the words, though that’s the first time he’s said it like that. 

“Oh my God! Seriously?” Niall looks so excited, which is not the reaction Harry anticipated. 

“Did you hear me?” Harry asks slowly. “I’m pregnant.”

“I heard! Holy shit. This is so great,” Niall says, eyes welling up with tears.

“What— Why are you so _excited?_ This is… This is crazy. This is the last thing I wanted to happen, Niall.”

“Oh. I thought… I guess I thought if you were telling me, you’d be happy about it. Are you? I don’t understand.”

“I’m not, um…” Harry presses his lips together, rolling them between his teeth. “I’m not exactly thrilled. My pregnancies haven’t been the most fun, and that was twenty-plus years ago. Morning sickness, weight gain, stretch marks, sleepless nights, my feet swell, my hips tend to hurt, and I get this sciatic nerve pain that shoots down my right leg. As soon as I start to show, my back aches constantly, and nothing helps but massage and I can’t get a massage every single day. It’s just… It’s inconvenient, for one. And it’s scary. I’m really, really scared.”

“You should sit,” Niall takes him by the hand and leads him to the couch. “Have you eaten?”

Harry nods. Now that he’s sitting, he wants to lie down, so he does, kicking his feet up on the arm of the sofa and closing his eyes. “Had a late breakfast with Gemma.”

“Have you talked to Louis about this?”

“Of course I have. He…” Harry yawns, losing track of what he was saying, and pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He forgot about the headaches, and now he wonders if it’s all psychosomatic because he hasn’t had any of the awful first trimester symptoms he’s had before. Though he was sick in August, that could’ve been morning sickness or a stomach bug. And he’s very tired, despite sleeping well the previous night. He looks up at Niall and says, “He was there when I found out.”

“No, I mean, about everything else,” Niall says, brushing Harry’s hair off his forehead, and Harry nods. “Good. He’s a good guy, you know?”

Harry falls asleep without responding to Niall, at least, he doesn’t recall saying anything more. He naps until his phone goes off, reminding him of his lunch plans with the girls, and he doesn’t have time to run home first, but thankfully he keeps neutralizers at the office. After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash his face and cover his scent—and Louis’—Harry hurries to meet them. 

When he arrives, all three of his daughters are waiting for him, and he realizes what it must’ve seemed like to them, for him to ask them to meet him like this, out of the blue.

“Hi,” Harry says, sliding into the booth beside Jane. He kisses her cheek, and lifts Char’s and Elizabeth’s hands, kissing them each in turn. “Missed you. We’ve all been so busy, I—”

“What’s going on?” Jane asks, turning in her seat to face him. “You were on heat leave, and now you’re not. What gives?”

“Oh, I bet it’s menopause!” Charlotte points at him with both hands, then blows her finger guns as if she’s solved it. 

Harry snorts. “I wish.”

“You wish?” Elizabeth asks, narrowing her eyes. But he’s saved by the arrival of the waitress and their drinks. “Ordered your usual, Dad. Hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, um… Thank you.” Harry watches the waitress set a Bloody Mary in front of Jane, mimosas in front of Elizabeth and Charlotte, and a glass of white wine in front of him. He sniffs to see if the smell of it bothers him, and since it doesn’t immediately turn his stomach, he decides he can fake it. They order their food, and the second the waitress walks away, Jane turns back to Harry.

“Dad,” Jane says, and raises her eyebrows. “Tell us what—”

“I’m seeing someone,” Harry says, the practiced words coming out faster than he usually speaks. If only he had more time to practice the rest.

“Oh!” Elizabeth cups both hands to her mouth, but seems to be smiling behind them. 

“No way,” Char says slowly, sucking her lower lip into her mouth and tipping her head to the side. Sometimes it’s like looking into a funhouse mirror. 

“That’s really great, Dad,” Jane says, turning towards him in her seat. “Is it that Alpha who sold you the condo? He was—”

“No.” Harry scoffs. “He’s mated. I told you that.”

“It’s Louis,” Charlotte declares, slapping her hand on the table and making Harry jump.

Harry opens his mouth to ask how she knows, but he’s interrupted by Jane’s barking laugh. They all turn to her, and she says, “It’s not Louis. Dad said like a million times he’s too young.”

“Dad.” Pointing at him, Elizabeth hums, and says, “Your pants are on fire.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry says, “I haven’t lied.”

Loudly snorting, Char reaches for her mimosa. “You haven’t. But I’m right.”

Clenching his teeth, Harry inhales and exhales through his nose. “Charlotte, I don’t appreciate your tone.” She snorts again, and Harry widens his eyes, raising his eyebrows. “Or your attitude.”

Elizabeth taps the back of his hand and says, “We knew about Louis.”

“What?” Harry’s stomach lurches and he flattens his hands over it. 

“What did we know?” Jane asks.

“Well, _you_ didn’t,” Charlotte says with a wink. “You’re the worst with secrets, Janie. And Dad didn’t want us to know, so we didn’t tell you.”

“How—” Harry clamps his jaw shut, and forces himself to breathe, then in a somewhat normal voice, he asks, “How did you know?” 

“I saw you two on the deck at Char’s birthday,” Elizabeth admits, and Harry’s surprise keeps him from saying more. He really thought they’d moved quickly enough that they weren’t seen. Elizabeth adds, “I’m sorry. I feel awful because it’s like I was spying, but I swear I wasn’t. I was looking for you, and peeked out of the window in the upstairs sitting room.”

“Wait. You’re really dating him?” Jane asks, and when Harry nods, she picks up her Bloody Mary and takes a gulp. 

Char says, “I thought Liz was lying—”

“Stop calling me Liz,” Elizabeth says, elbowing Char in the side. _“Charlotte_ thought I—”

“Stop. Calling. Me. That.” Charlotte elbows Elizabeth with each word.

“Girls!” Harry doesn’t yell, but he comes close.

“Sorry, Dad,” they say in unison. 

“Anyway, I thought she was lying ’cause she does that—”

“I do not!”

“Girls,” Harry says warningly. 

“Fine,” Char says. “Elizabeth has never said an untrue word in her life. Except for the time she told me I was going to die of cancer because my astrological sign is Cancer.”

“Charlotte, she was seven,” Harry says, sighing heavily. “I don’t know how you even remember that. You were barely three.”

“Oh, I remember,” Char says, turning to scowl at Elizabeth. 

“Jesus Christ.” Harry grabs his glass and takes a swig of wine before he remembers he’s not supposed to drink. No matter what Gemma and the stupid internet tell him, he’s not comfortable having alcohol while he’s pregnant, and he wants to spit it out, but he forces himself to swallow. “Tell me whatever you have to tell me. Right now.”

“Sorry,” Char says, and sounds sincere, so Harry nods, waiting for her to continue. “And sorry, for like, what I’m about to say, but I went upstairs ’cause I didn’t believe her, and after I went downstairs and told her she was a big fat liar—”

“Charlotte.” Harry reaches for his wine again, but realizes what he’s doing and grabs his water instead.

“I saw him come back downstairs,” Char says, shrugging and nodding side to side. 

Harry rubs his temples, closing his eyes and wishing his headache would back off. “Charlotte, apologize to your sister.”

A few seconds pass and Harry opens his eyes to find Charlotte staring at him, open mouthed. She squeezes her eyes shut and opens them again. “Sorry. Sorry, Elizabeth, for calling you big and fat.”

“Charlotte, I—”

“Just because she wasn’t lying about—”

“Char!” Elizabeth elbows Charlotte again, and Harry's headache throbs behind his eyes. She lowers her voice and says, “You’re such an asshole.”

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me,” Jane complains, draining her Bloody Mary. 

“Please,” Charlotte and Elizabeth say with equal derision. Harry presses his hand to his stomach. 

“Jane, you would’ve said something to me within twenty-four hours, and that is one of the many reasons I love you.” Harry turns to Elizabeth and says, “If you didn’t bullshit your sister all the time, she wouldn’t have thought you were lying, and she wouldn’t have done something _completely inappropriate_ like trying to spy on me.”

All three of his daughters start at the same time, arguing and accusing, talking over each other until it’s all just noise and Harry's had enough. He slips out of the booth and goes to the bar, quickly paying the waitress and tipping her extra. On the way home, he swings by the McDonald’s Drive-Thru, cursing Louis’ influence even as he gives thanks that they serve breakfast all day. While he waits, he texts Louis, telling him a severely abbreviated version of events: that Gemma and Niall took things very well, but he didn’t tell the girls.

His apartment is cool and dark, a reprieve from the hot September weather, and Harry eats a sausage biscuit while standing in the kitchen, before heading to his room to take off his clothes. Nice pajamas are his favorite thing to wear during pregnancy, and he’s going to have to invest in some new things. There’s so much to do, and he feels behind—a third of the way through the pregnancy and he almost doesn’t know where to start. Harry smears butter and strawberry jam on his two plain biscuits, and puts them on a plate, carrying them to his bedroom because no one is going to tell him he can’t eat them in his bed. 

Before he can set his plate down on his bedside table, his phone vibrates and pings in his pocket.

Louis  
  
**Louis:** You ok?  
  
  


Harry takes a bite of his biscuit and plops down onto his bed. 

Louis  
  
**Harry:** Eating McDonald’s in my bed. You be the judge.   
**Louis:** Can I come by?  
**Harry:** Yes.  
  
  


Figuring that it’s best if he’s not actually in bed when Louis arrives, Harry trudges back to the kitchen, finishing his food and rubbing circles over his belly until he burps. He hurries back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When it’s been about ten minutes, and Louis hasn’t rung the bell, Harry kicks off his slippers and lies down on the couch, propping his feet up on the arm and wishing his sofa was as wide and comfortable as Louis’ is. 

He wakes up to the doorbell, feeling disoriented from nodding off, though his mouth still tastes like toothpaste, so he couldn’t have been asleep for long. Rather than jumping up to let Louis in, he sits for a moment to get his bearings, then shuffles to the door in his slippers. At the sight of Louis, Harry’s heart leaps. His natural scent is instantly calming, and as soon as Harry inhales, his body relaxes. When Louis pulls a bundle of sunflowers from behind his back, Harry’s eyes well up with tears. He doesn’t bother wiping them away, circling his arms around Louis’ neck and crying into the collar of his shirt. Louis pets his hair and the back of his neck, all while closing and locking the door, and guiding Harry back to the couch. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, the second he sits down.

Louis gently lays the sunflowers on the coffee table, sitting facing Harry. “Did something happen?”

“Yes,” Harry answers, then he says, “No. Well, something, but nothing awful. I’m just… pregnant, I suppose.”

“You’ve had a rough day so far, I’d imagine.” Louis cups Harry’s face in his hand and rubs his thumb over his cheekbone. “Want to tell me about it or not?”

Harry pouts, shoulders slumping. By the time he tells Louis that Char and Elizabeth have known about them since July, he’s lying down, feet in Louis’ lap, talking between groans as Louis massages his feet. 

“Oh my God, that’s good,” Harry says, and Louis chuckles, lifting Harry’s foot and pressing a kiss to the outside of his ankle. 

“Maybe I missed my calling,” Louis says, rubbing tiny circles on Harry’s baby toe. “So what are you thinking? Tell them separately? Let them figure it out?”

Harry hums, resting his hand on his stomach and closing his eyes. As much as he’d like to skip the telling, he can’t let them guess and surprise him the way they did at lunch. It’s especially embarrassing when he thinks about the night at the theater. 

“I don’t know,” Harry finally says, blinking his tired eyes open when Louis stops rubbing his toes and presses his thumb into his heel. “Don’t feel much like talking to them right now.”

The doorbell rings and Harry frowns, reaching for his phone. No missed calls or texts, which means he probably ordered something to be delivered and forgot about it again. He lets his feet fall to the floor and stands, combing his fingers through Louis’ silky hair before heading for the door. Through the peephole, he sees all three of his kids, and after the initial surge of adrenaline, he opens the door wide enough that he knows Louis is plainly visible, and without saying a word, goes back to sit beside him on the couch. 

“Want me to go?” Louis asks in a hushed voice, but Harry shakes his head, taking Louis’ hand and lacing their fingers together. He squeezes Harry’s hand twice as the girls silently file through the door and stand at the edge of the room.

“We’re sorry, Dad,” Elizabeth says.

“And Louis,” Charlotte adds on, eyes wide as she twists her fingers together. “Really sorry.”

“Sorry we ruined lunch, too,” Jane says, holding a to-go box out for Harry, who takes it and opens it, popping a sweet potato chip into his mouth. “And your, um… thunder? Sorry we— _they—_ stole your thunder.”

Harry snorts and Louis squeezes his hand again. “You two were baiting me. When we went to the theater.”

“Sorry,” Elizabeth and Charlotte say simultaneously. 

“I know…” Harry sighs. He folds his legs, leaning slightly towards Louis. “I know it’s hard. Adjusting to your father and I being divorced. But I… I’ve always tried to treat you girls with respect, and I expect the same from you. And this is just… I realize it was almost a domino effect. I know you didn’t have bad intentions, either of you. But I need…” Taking a deep breath, Harry tries to calm his racing heart, but his hands tremble despite Louis’ grip. He rubs his palm over his silky pajama pants, wrinkling his nose when he realizes how sweaty he is. “I need all three of you to stop acting like children. I need— I… I need to pee, actually.” Charlotte snorts, sounding far too much like him, and Harry can’t contain his eye roll. He takes a deep breath and says, “Get used to it. I’d planned to tell you girls at lunch, and honestly, I was so worried about your reactions and what you’d think. But now, I… I… I mean, I do care what you think of me. And Louis. And I don’t want you to be upset with me. But I just can’t— I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

“Dad, are you… Is something _wrong?”_ Jane asks, and he can almost see her filing through his appointment calendar, now that she has access to it at the office. 

Harry shakes his head. “I’m pregnant.”

The room goes still and silent. Jane’s eyes slowly get wider and wider, Charlotte’s mouth opens and closes comically, and Elizabeth looks from Harry to Louis and then to her sisters.

“You’re pregnant?” Elizabeth asks, always the first one to pull herself together. Or at least to act like it. 

“I am,” Harry confirms with a nod. “And yes, Louis is the other father. And yes, we’re planning to have a baby. Together. Oh my God, I have to pee.” Pushing himself off the couch, Harry rushes to the bathroom, slamming the door. He’ll have to ask his doctor if this is what he can expect throughout the pregnancy. He doesn’t remember the urgency to urinate being this strong, so maybe it’s his age and not the baby. 

When he steps out of his bathroom into his bedroom, he finds Louis waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Sorry,” Louis whispers. “They were just staring at me. None of them said a word. I thought they might need a few minutes.”

Harry drops onto the bed next to him, pressing into Louis’ side. He lifts his arm and drapes it over Harry's shoulders, cuddling him close and kissing the top of his head. 

“I’m sorry if they were rude,” Harry says. 

“No, no. It was… It was more like they didn’t know what to say, so they just stayed quiet.”

“Still. I’m sorry I ran off and left you there to fend for yourself.”

Louis huffs a laugh, his breath warm in Harry’s hair. “Unless you want me to stay, I think they might prefer to talk to you alone.”

“Louis,” Harry whines, and wonders why he thinks that’s an appropriate way to talk to anyone. Reluctantly, he lifts his head from Louis’ shoulder, and clears his throat. “You’re probably right.”

“Can I come back tonight?” Louis says, standing and pulling Harry to his feet. “It’ll be late. Around nine?”

Harry nods and says, “Maybe I’ll take another nap.”

“Should I kiss you goodbye in here?” Louis bites his lip, and Harry shakes his head. 

“I’m afraid if you kiss me now, I won’t want you to leave.”

“Ahh, well.” Shrugging one shoulder, Louis lets Harry tug him out of the bedroom, and they walk through the apartment holding hands. 

At the door, while his daughters look on curiously, Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ scruffy cheek, and quietly says, “See you tonight.”

Louis scrunches his nose, and purses his lips, before turning to walk down the hall. For a moment, Harry watches, but when Louis glances back over his shoulder and waves, he rolls his eyes fondly and shuts the door. 

“That was gross,” Charlotte says, and Harry's entire being deflates. He didn’t think it’d be easy, but he didn’t expect that sort of nastiness either. Spinning around slowly, Harry glares at his youngest child, whose smile drops off her face. “I meant in a good way!”

“She did, Dad,” Elizabeth says reassuringly. She turns to Charlotte, who nods vigorously. 

“Yeah, sorry. Like cute-gross. You— I mean, I don’t…” Char groans miserably. “Jane, speak.”

Jane huffs, clearly annoyed at Char’s Tarzan voice. “Dad, we’ve been hoping you’d meet someone, but I don’t think any of us thought you’d wind up pregnant and in love with a man half your age.”

Opening his mouth to correct Jane on both points, Harry stops and closes it again. He sits in the chair closest to the couch, and says, “Louis is twenty-eight. Your father has already managed to accuse me of cradle robbing, and I won’t have it from you three. I—”

“Dad, we like him!” Char waves both hands at him as if he needs to be pacified. “It’s just a little weird to—”

“It’d be just as weird if you were dating a guy your own age. It’s…” Jane pinches her lower lip the way he sometimes does and he raises his eyebrows, waiting for her to finish her thought. “It’s something we’ll have to get used to, is all. We adjusted to the divorce okay, didn’t we?”

“I suppose,” Harry says begrudgingly.

“Wait, Father knows?”

“He knows about Louis, in a way.” Harry cups his nonexistent baby bump. “He doesn’t know about the baby, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him.” One at a time, they murmur their agreement, then Harry says, “Gemma knows. I’ve told her that you girls will tell Zoe and Alison. But please, don’t say anything to your grandmother. She won’t understand and it might upset her.”

“So, can we ask questions?” Elizabeth asks.

“Depends. I may not answer.”

“When’s the baby due?” Elizabeth looks pointedly at Harry’s stomach.

“March fifteenth,” Harry answers.

“Ooh, beware the Ides of March,” Char says in a spooky voice, and Harry rolls his eyes.

“I’m not giving birth to Julius Caesar. And babies are never born on their due dates. Do I need to tell you all your birth stories again?”

“Two weeks late,” Jane says, hand in the air.

“Three weeks early,” Elizabeth says.

“Almost born on a boat,” Char says. “And five days late.”

“Thank you,” Harry says. “Any other questions?”

Brows knitted together, Elizabeth stares down at her phone. “You’re three months? Oh my God, Dad, we’ve got so much to do!” 

Harry manages to convince them that, although he appreciates any and all help they might be willing to give, he’s not ready to think about the prospect of a baby shower yet. When they finally leave, they’re still fighting over who should get to hold the baby first and who will make the best babysitter, even after Harry shuts the door. He watches through the peephole as their animated argument carries them down the hall. 

▓▓▓

After attempting to nap and failing miserably, Harry takes a bath for no reason other than the pregnancy website says that hot baths aren’t allowed. It’s a last bath hurrah with bubbles and candles and music because there’s no way he’s going to take baths in lukewarm water. He even makes himself a mocktail with sparkling water and cranberry juice and sliced fruit to drink while he soaks. 

“You’re early,” Harry says as soon as he opens the door. 

“Left Lottie to finish up.” Louis shrugs, lifting his chin and pursing his lips. Kissing him is too easy, so Harry does it once, before backing away to yawn. With a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, Louis says, “Thought you might be tired.”

“I’m exhausted. Couldn’t nap, so I took a bath and read a little. Did some chores,” Harry says, interrupting himself with another yawn. “Ate dinner.”

“Oh, good. I was going to offer to make you something, but I’m tired too. Don’t feel much like cooking.”

“I can only eat so many frozen pizzas, Louis,” Harry says with a short laugh. 

“Wasn’t going to make you a pizza. I can cook, you know. I’m not completely helpless in the kitchen,” Louis insists, and Harry raises his eyebrows, not quite believing him. “I see how it is. I’ll just have to prove myself, hmm? But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” Harry echoes. 

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Louis takes Harry’s hand and kisses the inside of his wrist. 

“Do you want to sit? Or—” Harry yawns again. “I swear, I slept fine last night.”

“I know. I was there.” 

Harry's cheeks start to heat, not that they even did anything but cuddle all night. “I took a nap before lunch too. I shouldn’t be so tired.”

“Maybe your body’s playing catch-up. You powered through the whole first trimester,” Louis says, and Harry shrugs. 

“Maybe. But I want to talk to you, not yawn at you.”

“You want me to rub your feet again?”

Huffing a little laugh, Harry says, “No. I’m saving up my foot rubs for the third trimester.”

“Unlimited supply.” Louis holds up both hands and wiggles his fingers. “I could rub something else.”

“Louis.” 

“I meant like, your shoulders or your back or something!” 

“Oh…” Harry scrunches his nose, embarrassed at his mistake, but pleased that he managed to ruffle Louis a bit. “Maybe.” 

“You want to watch a movie?” 

“Not really,” Harry says. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you I was tired. You didn’t have to leave work early.”

“You want me to go?” Louis asks, but Harry shakes his head. 

“Can you lie down with me? You can leave whenever you want, I just…” Harry huffs, slightly embarrassed, but still willing to ask. “Can you cuddle me and scent me?”

“’Course, baby. But…” Louis says with a grin, “What if I don’t want to leave?”

“You can stay. You know that.”

“Wasn’t too long ago you said I couldn’t stay two nights in a row.”

“That was before…” Harry looks down at his belly, which he swears has grown in the last twenty-four hours, and pats it. 

Louis shrugs and purses his lips. He leans in and kisses Harry quickly before tugging his hand and leading him to the bedroom where he does exactly what Harry asked. Cuddling up to Harry’s back, he holds him, and scents him, and sweetly kisses him once more, before Harry falls asleep wondering how long this can possibly last. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to let y'all know, i'm more and more nervous as i post more chapters. gahhhhh...... i hope you like them

September passes much faster than it should. Within a couple of weeks, none of Harry’s pants fit. He goes from leaving them unbuttoned under his belt, to letting his shirts hang down to cover his undone zippers, to wearing a pair of black silk pajama pants in a pinch when he gets dressed to go to his next doctor’s appointment. 

He spends most of the month working more hours than normal, which means he misses out on lunches with his girls, though he does see Jane at the office. It’s intentional, filling up his time, because he’s avoiding everything else. He doesn’t want to think about decorating a nursery, buying a diaper bag, or telling his mother she’s going to be a grandmother again. And he doesn’t want his daughters to ask him anything else about planning a baby shower. Specifically, he’s avoiding other people. The only person he can’t avoid is Louis, who spends the night more often than not. Though they haven’t had sex again since that fateful afternoon, because Louis won’t make the first move. Despite his increasing libido, Harry's too anxious to initiate anything. 

More than usual, Harry's mind drifts when he’s pregnant. The worst is when it happens while he’s behind the wheel, so he asks Louis to drive him to his next doctor appointment. He does it happily, making Harry even more thankful that Louis wants to come along.

“Going to have to get a new car,” Harry says, pouting because he loves his little convertible. “No car seat’s fitting in here.”

“We could use my car,” Louis offers, and Harry can’t help but be taken aback. Seeming to sense Harry's surprise, Louis glances over. “I mean, you don’t have to drive my car if you don’t want to. But it has that hook system for car seats. Latch system? Maybe that’s what it’s called?” 

Harry stares at him, and after a moment, comes to his senses. They aren’t mated or married. There’s no bond between them, and there never will be. Just like the baby will hopefully live primarily with Harry, he’ll be the one driving them around to pediatrician appointments and daycare and school, eventually. 

“No, um… I think I should probably have a car of my own that has plenty of room for a car seat and a baby and all the stuff that goes along with that.”

“Okay,” Louis easily agrees, reaching over to rest his hand on Harry’s thigh. He leaves it there all the way to the doctor’s office. 

Harry’s doctor is less surprised than he expected her to be at Louis’ appearance at his side, which makes him question exactly how much of the heat and rut matching app is actually anonymous. It only takes a moment to add Louis’ information to Harry’s record as the other father, and the next thing Harry knows, he’s on his back on the exam table with his t-shirt rucked up under his armpits while Doctor Fitzpatrick uses the doppler to check the baby’s heartbeat.

The swooshing of the amniotic fluid and slow, regular beat of Harry’s own heart coming from the little speaker are loud in the silent exam room. Harry stares up at the ceiling. It’s odd that they hang crib mobiles over the exam tables, but at least it gives him something to look at. 

Louis takes his hand and gently squeezes it. “What’s that?” he asks quietly.

Doctor Fitzpatrick smiles indulgently at him. “That’s mostly just static. Hold on… Just a second.” She slides the wand down the barely there curve of Harry’s stomach, and suddenly the whooshing is joined by a rapid, muffled thumping, and Harry squeezes Louis’ hand back. “There it is.”

From his position on the exam table, Harry has to crane his neck to look at Louis, and when he does, Louis’ gaze is fixed on the place where the heart rate monitor touches Harry’s belly. His eyes dart up to meet Harry’s, and they’re filled with unshed tears. 

“That’s the baby’s heartbeat?” Louis asks, voice cracking, and Harry’s nod is all it takes for the dam to break. A sob seems to take Louis by surprise, and he claps his free hand over his mouth, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Wiping tears from his own eyes, Harry says, “You know, they do this at every appointment.”

Louis shakes his head, and Doctor Fitzpatrick says, “Sure do. One hundred fifty-six beats per minute. Strong and clear. Baby sounds good.”

“That’s so fast!” Louis’ eyes get so wide that Harry laughs. 

“It’s supposed to be,” Harry says, watching as Louis tries to compose himself. 

Doctor Fitzpatrick cleans the gel from Harry's stomach and sets the monitor aside. “So, as I said, the results of the blood test along with the ultrasound from your last visit don’t show any increased risk of chromosomal abnormalities.” Harry nods, tugging his shirt down, and taking Doctor Fitzpatrick’s offered hand to help him sit up. “If you’d like to schedule an amino, we can do that.”

“No, um…” Harry crumples the paper on the exam table and looks to Louis. “No, I don’t think so. Thank you.”

“One more thing. The blood test does tell us the baby’s sex. Would you like to know that?”

Harry shakes his head and says, “No. Not today.”

“Well, then. I think that’s it. They’ll set you up with your next appointment up front.” Doctor Fitzpatrick stands and says, “You’ll be twenty weeks then, so we’ll want to do the level two ultrasound. Any questions or—”

“Yes, um…” Harry swings his legs where he sits on the exam table. “Louis, can you… Could you give us a minute?”

Louis frowns, but almost immediately replaces it with a small smile. “Yeah, of course. I’ll wait up front.”

As soon as Louis leaves the room, Harry says, “I need to ask some, um… sensitive questions.”

“Go ahead, Harry,” Doctor Fitzpatrick says, sitting back down on her stool. 

“I… Oh, wow. This is…” Harry huffs a quiet laugh. “This is embarrassing but I need to make sure it’s okay for me to have sex. I know that with normal pregnancies, it’s fine. Encouraged even. But this obviously is not a normal situation. And I—”

“It’s fine, Harry. Regular, safe sex—as long as you’re happy and willing—is good for you. Knotting is fine as well. The hormones released can help you relax, help you sleep.”

“Okay,” Harry says. Part of him was hoping to be told no and he doesn’t know why because he definitely wants to. The second trimester is hitting him harder than he remembers and he’s at least a little bit wet all the time. If it keeps up he’s going to have to start wearing pads. 

Like he said he would be, Louis is waiting up at reception, standing back, out of the way of the other patients. The second he sees Harry, he pushes off the wall, red-rimmed eyes wide with worry. 

“Everything okay?” Louis asks, and when Harry nods and smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way, Louis steps closer, waiting beside him in line to make the appointment for the next month. On the way out of the office, Louis follows just behind Harry, resting his hand on his lower back as they walk through the door. In the parking lot, Louis takes his hand and says, “Did you eat breakfast?”

“In the two hours that we were apart,” Harry says, trying to remember everything as he climbs into the car. “I had a bowl of oatmeal, a sunny side up egg on toast, a banana, a spoonful of chocolate peanut butter, and I drank one cup of decaf tea and one glass of water. I think. There might be something— I had a piece of cheese.”

“Oh,” Louis says, and he sounds disappointed. “I had a cup of coffee.”

“You should eat,” Harry says, watching Louis’ hand on the steering wheel as he backs out of the parking space, and wishing it was resting on his thigh.

“I was going to ask you to breakfast, but I’ll get something on the way to the theater.” 

Harry's stomach rumbles. “Second breakfast.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, patting his stomach. “Did you have someplace in mind?”

Louis nods, pulling out onto the road. “There’s this place I’ve always wanted to try. They have regular breakfast stuff like eggs, but also um, shrimp and grits, biscuits and gravy.” 

“Oh, I love biscuits and gravy.”

“I know,” Louis says. “I mean, you— you told me.”

Frowning and pouting, Harry mutters, “I hate my pregnancy brain.”

“No, I…” Louis reaches over and lays the palm of his hand just above Harry’s knee. He squeezes lightly and lets go, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “You told me when you were in heat. Sorry.”

“I told you I like biscuits and gravy?” Harry asks, turning in his seat just a little. 

“Yeah.” Glancing at Harry, then down at his stomach, Louis says, “Sorry. I know you don’t like talking about it.”

“Why would I tell you…” Harry trails off, watching Louis’ neck turn pink. He can smell Louis’ embarrassment, when he normally needs to be much closer to pick apart his scent.

“At the time,” Louis says, then bites his lip. He clears his throat. “We were pretending we were trying to get you pregnant. You know that. So I— You said you didn’t want to talk about your heats, Harry.”

“I told you that I liked biscuits and gravy when I’m pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“What else did I tell you?” Harry asks. 

“I don’t know.” Louis waves his hand dismissively and says, “Lots of stuff.”

“Do you not want to tell me?” Harry asks, stomach sinking. 

“Baby, no. It’s not— I’m sorry,” Louis says, reaching for Harry’s thigh, but Harry jerks his leg away. “Okay.”

“Sorry,” Harry says. 

“Don’t. Please.” Louis sighs, looking over at him, the little line between his eyebrows deeper than usual. “It’s just, you said you didn’t want to talk about your heats and—”

“Well, now I do,” Harry says, stubbornly crossing his arms. 

“That’s fine. That’s cool. But can we— At home—”

“I thought you wanted to go get breakfast.” 

“I can eat later,” Louis says, shaking his head. “If you want me to talk to you about your heats, I’d rather not do it in public.”

“But…” Harry closes his eyes. He’s not mad at Louis, just surprised, really. And his brain feels like it’s slow to process information. Maybe he needs a nap. Or some food. “Biscuits and gravy?” 

Louis snorts, looking over while losing a fight with a grin. “Can you wait to talk? I don’t want you mad at me.”

Dropping his head back against the headrest, Harry sighs. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“It’s alright, baby. I’m sorry too. Part of the reason I wanted to do a lucid heat with you.”

“Oh,” Harry says. He’d sort of forgotten about heat and rut with the pregnancy. “I thought… I thought it was just, you know, pretending we were trying to get pregnant.”

Reaching over, Louis drags his knuckles down the outside of Harry’s arm to his hand. Harry takes it and holds it on top of his thigh, and Louis smiles, eyes crinkling. “Well, yeah, but twice for two whole days. And I wasn’t in rut the first time.”

“So you asked me about my pregnancy food cravings?” Harry laughs. Maybe he doesn’t want to know anything else. 

“I mean, I— I didn’t know you, but I found you fascinating. You were so lovely and I didn’t know if I’d see you again, so I— I kind of went hard with the fantasy, I guess. After I’d knot you, I’d get you to eat a little, drink some water, and I’d talk to you like— like we were—” Louis presses his lips together, rolling them between his teeth. “You were so, so beautiful, and when I was about to knot you for the first time, you asked me to give you a baby. Of course I said yes. But I couldn’t— I couldn’t bite you when you wanted me to. So I told you we’d decided to wait until your heat was over.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry presses his thumb and forefinger against his closed eyelids. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

“No, baby. Listen, I don’t regret it or anything. Not at all. It was…” Louis digs his fingertips into Harry’s thigh to get his attention, and when Harry turns to look at him, he says, “I loved it. And when you were more, um, coherent, I talked to you. It’s not— I don’t think it’s a big deal, really. I made a joke about pickles and ice cream and you said biscuits and gravy and, I don’t know, I just—”

“Lou,” Harry says, voice scratchy. “It’s okay.”

“Is it?” Louis asks, little worry lines on his forehead. 

“Yeah, it is.”

“Do you still want to eat?”

Harry hums. “I do, but I don’t want to go out now. I told Niall and Jane I wouldn’t be in today.”

“How about this,” Louis says. 

A moment later, Harry finds himself searching for recipes while Louis drives them to the grocery store. They only have to pick up a few things—buttermilk and sausage—because Harry’s positive he has everything else on the list at home, so Louis asks him to stay in the car while he runs inside. Harry should’ve known better than to let him go alone. He walks out with a bundle of sunflowers in his hand and Harry blushes the whole way home. 

“You’re spoiling me,” Harry says when Louis won’t let him carry anything up to his apartment. “Going to make me lazy.”

Louis scoffs. “It’s one bag and six flowers. You’re the one making me take the stairs.”

While Louis replaces the barely wilted sunflowers from the previous week with new ones, Harry puts on an apron, collects all of the ingredients they need, and preheats the oven. It’s been a long time since he’s made biscuits from scratch and he hopes he doesn’t screw them up. 

“You have one of these for me?” Louis asks, sneaking up behind Harry and tugging on his apron strings. Harry looks down at his plain white chef’s apron. He starts to untie it, but Louis stops him. “No, it’s fine. If I get messy, I can change.”

“I have another one. Just wanted to give you this one,” Harry says, pulling his other apron out. “Didn’t think you’d want the pink floral one.”

“Really.” Louis blinks at him slowly. When Harry shrugs, Louis takes the pink apron, looping it around his neck and tying it behind his back. He turns on the sink to wash his hands and says, “When I was a teenager, I used to make dinner for my sisters sometimes. I always made them read me the recipe.”

“Oh, is that— You want me to read it to you?” Harry asks, fumbling for his phone when Louis nods. “Okay.”

It’s enthralling watching Louis measure and mix, whisking the ingredients before turning them onto Harry’s floured pastry board. The deft movements of his hands as he presses and folds the dough are hypnotic and Harry loses track of what he’s supposed to be doing.

“What’s next?” Louis asks, patting the rectangle of dough. 

“Roll it out. Half an inch thick.” After unlocking his phone to double check, Harry hands Louis his rolling pin. He takes it with a nod and Harry blurts out, “How many people have you slept with?”

“Um…” Louis rolls the dough carefully, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, but Harry makes himself wait. He hopes Louis can smell his impatience through his neutralizers. “When I first went off to college, I was— Well, I was kind of wild, I guess. So, I don’t know, exactly.”

“Oh,” Harry says, fighting his blush. “That’s not… That’s actually not what I meant. Sorry.”

“What’d you mean then?” Louis asks, leaning down to look across the top of the dough. “Does that look even to you?”

“Yeah, here,” Harry says, handing him a glass to use to cut out the biscuits. “I meant… I meant two things, really. I wanted to know how many, um… relationships you’ve been in. But I also wanted to know how many… through the matching service.”

“Okay, um, I had two boyfriends in college. Both semi-serious, like, we were together, but there was never any talk of… of a future, you know?” Louis looks to him for confirmation, and Harry nods, though he doesn’t actually know. “And then I dated a guy named Andrew for like three years, but it didn’t work out. He… I wanted more, he didn’t. Did the matching service the first time two years ago. Helped two Omegas through one heat each. Started dating a guy named Dylan about a year ago, but it only lasted a few months, then I met you.”

“That was concise,” Harry says.

“Figured you’d ask me eventually. I might’ve practiced.”

“How many older Omegas?” Harry asks, almost not wanting to know. 

“My boyfriends when I was in college we’re both Os, both a few years older. Andrew was six years older than me, both the Omegas from the matching service were in their mid-forties. Dylan’s in his late-thirties, but he’s a Beta.” Louis holds the baking sheet out and raises his eyebrows, nodding towards the oven. It still takes Harry a moment to catch on. 

Once the biscuits are baking, they start on the sausage gravy, and Harry finally responds. “I don’t know why I waited to talk to you about that. I should’ve—”

“It’s fine, Harry. I know…” Louis heaves a sigh, and says, “I know that you didn’t really want to date me. I know I kind of… annoyed you into it. And I know you weren’t expecting this.” He gestures at Harry’s stomach and turns back to the stove.

“You don’t annoy me,” Harry says softly, “You scare me.”

“Well, you scare me too, so…”

“Me?” Harry holds a hand to his chest, dumbfounded. 

Louis nods, stirring the sausage. “Can you check the recipe?”

Instead of unlocking his phone, Harry sets it on the counter, and takes the handle of the pan from Louis, pushing it off the heat and turning off the burner. He grabs Louis’ face in both hands and kisses him, walking him across the room until they bump into the wall beside the fridge, and Louis brings his hands to rest on Harry’s lower back. 

“What’s this?” Louis asks, tipping his head to the side when Harry nudges his nose against his neck. 

“I asked the doctor if we could have sex.”

“We’re not having sex in the kitchen, Harry,” Louis says, holding Harry’s hips and putting some space between them. 

“We can kiss in the kitchen though.”

“If you want, we—” 

Harry presses the length of his body against Louis’, crowding him against the wall. He kisses him until the oven timer goes off, and they have to hurry to make the sausage gravy before Harry eats all of the biscuits by themselves. By the time they finish eating and cleaning up, Louis is already late getting back to work, but he makes himself even later by kneeling on the floor in front of the door to say goodbye to the avocado sized baby in Harry’s uterus. 

Once he finishes telling the baby how cool it was to hear their heart for the first time and how he can’t wait to see them at the next appointment, Harry pulls him up off the floor and drags him to the bedroom. It’s the first orgasm he’s had while knowingly pregnant, and though they don’t have time for Louis to knot him, Louis gives him an earth-shattering blowjob that leaves him incapable of getting out of bed to walk him to the door when Louis finally has to go. Louis takes Harry's spare key to lock the door when he leaves, promising to come back after work. And Harry only hesitates a second before telling him to keep the key.

When he recovers from the unexpected orgasm, Harry comes down hard. He’s in the shower rubbing the washcloth in circles on his stomach, and his mood goes from elated to overwhelmed with anxiety about his future, and the uncertainty of Louis’ place in it. For the rest of the day, he researches unmated Omega parental rights between window shopping for a crib and breast pump. 

Louis does come over after work, but Harry's already in bed, asleep. He wakes up long enough to peer through his eyelashes at Louis framed in the doorway, halo of golden light around him. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Louis asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

Rather than answer, Harry folds the blanket down and pats the mattress. A moment later, he’s back in his dreams. 

For much of the night, his subconscious keeps him trapped inside a room with no door, with one wall a thick sheet of glass bordering another room. A little baby—who looks identical to Jane, the only one of his girls to inherit his green eyes—crawls across the floor of the adjacent room. Harry knocks on the glass, but the baby doesn’t notice, so he knocks harder. Just before the baby crosses to the other side of the room, a door, which was previously hidden seamlessly in the wall, swings open. Louis enters the room, and without looking at the glass wall, bends down to pick up the baby. Despite Harry's more and more frantic knocking, Louis turns and leaves. 


	16. Chapter 16

“Yes, Gemma, I’m on my way. I swear,” Harry says, pulling the stretchy panel over his belly and tugging the tails of his shirt down. With his sweater vest on, he looks fairly normal from the front. From the side is a different story, but he still isn’t obviously pregnant. No one has mentioned anything. He even bumped into Richard at the bank and he didn’t notice. But he’s about to enter a completely different universe as soon as he walks onto the labor and delivery floor of the hospital. So he had to stop and pee at the first restroom he saw, which means that he’s going to be the last one to see the baby. 

Harry straightens his posture and holds his head high, waiting for someone to open the door for him. The second the nurse sees him, her eyes drop to his stomach. She doesn’t say anything, and neither does Harry, but he knows that she knows, and he’s pretty sure she knows that he knows she knows. Silently, he follows just behind her to sign in at the desk, and then she shows him to Zoe’s hospital room.

“Thank you,” Harry says, smiling at the nurse and glancing down at her hospital name badge. It’s flipped around backwards on the lanyard around her neck, and before he can ask her name, she pushes the door open, and he’s greeted by a chorus of shushing sounds.

“Hi,” Harry whispers into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He goes straight for the sink to wash his hands, then stands beside Gemma, arm around her waist. “How are you feeling, Grandma?”

Gemma turns, scowling at him. “Harry, I swear—”

“Mom!” Zoe’s quiet, but sharp voice cuts them off. She gestures to the bundle of blankets at her breast and says, “He’s sleeping. And eating.”

“Babies are the best multi-taskers.” Harry leans down to kiss Zoe’s forehead. “How are you?”

“Ehh…” Zoe shrugs and the baby finally decides he’d rather put his all into sleeping. Before anyone can swoop in, Harry lifts him out of Zoe’s hands while she covers up and gets comfortable again. 

“So we’re calling him Felix?” Harry asks, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head where his fontanel pulses. Zoe nods, and Harry looks to Allison who looks almost as exhausted as Zoe and Felix do. “Has everyone eaten?”

When it turns out that Harry is the only one other than the baby who’s had lunch, he sends them all to go eat. He asks his girls to attempt to convince Allison and Gemma to go home and shower before coming back to the hospital, and sits in the rocking chair that’s crammed beside the bed. 

“Uncle H?” Zoe yawns as Harry hums in response to her question. “It’s funny that Felix will be older than your baby.” 

“It is, isn’t it,” Harry says, pushing off the floor with one foot to keep the chair moving. “Wonder what Felix will think of his cousin, and vice versa.”

“Probably that they’re lucky to have such cool parents,” Zoe says, stifling another yawn. “You can let the nurses take him back to the nursery, if you want. I’m going to try to nap while everyone’s gone. Thanks, by the way.”

“Welcome, babe. Knew you’d need a break,” Harry says, standing to gently place the sleeping newborn in the hospital bassinet. “Want me to go?”

“No. You should nap too.”

Harry snorts and sits back down. He leans the chair back as far as it will go and closes his eyes, listening to the whooshing and quiet beeping of the hospital sounds. He jerks awake when the door opens, and sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh, I can come back,” the nurse says, but Harry shakes his head and stands, peering down at baby Felix. 

“Zoe said you could take him to the nursery if you need to weigh him or anything,” Harry says, cupping his hand over his belly and noticing too late to stop himself. It doesn’t matter. Now the nurse definitely knows. 

“No, shift change isn’t until seven. They’ll want him in the nursery for that, but he’s okay to stay. I just wanted to make sure she didn’t have any questions. A lot of first time moms and dads have a hard time breastfeeding, so I wanted to check that she wasn’t having any problems.”

“I don’t think so. Felix was nursing when I got here, but I’ll tell her when she wakes up…” Harry tilts his head to read her ID card. “Johanna. That’s a lovely name.”

“Thank you,” she says, backing out of the room. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure.” Harry starts to sit back down, but a sudden fluttering in his belly stops him, and he gasps, holding one hand to his stomach and the other to his mouth.

“Are you alright?” Johanna asks, and Harry nods while telling himself not to cry. It shouldn’t be a big deal, feeling the baby move for the first time when he’s done it before. “Quickening?” she asks, and Harry nods again. “Oh, wow. Congrats.”

“Thanks— Thank you,” Harry says, closing his eyes and focusing on the sensation. 

“Uncle Harry, you felt the baby move?” Zoe asks, making him jump.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he says, patting his stomach. “But yes. This is so odd.”

The door closes and Harry moves closer to the bed so that Zoe can lay her outstretched hand on his stomach, though there’s nothing for her to feel. By the time everyone comes back, trickling in one by one by three, Felix is awake and feeding again, and Harry is ready to go home. He promises to come help Zoe and Allison with Felix while they get adjusted to having him home, and after making Gemma promise to get some sleep, he leaves. He has to work and he has to go to the gym and he has things to do other than sit around and hold his new nephew. 

What he winds up doing, is working the rest of the day, and falling asleep on the couch in his office. He makes himself go to the gym before heading home, but all he can make himself do is swim about half as many laps as he usually does. And when he steps into the shower in the locker room, he finds that he’s forgotten his shampoo, then the baby moves, and he stays under the spray until his tears stop. He doesn’t even wash. 

On the way home, his phone pings with a text, and when he stops at a red light, he checks it. 

Louis  
  
**Louis:** Bought you something. Let me know when you’re home and I’ll drop it off.   
**Harry:** Come by in an hour? You’re not supposed to buy me presents.  
**Louis:** I don’t remember that rule. See you soon.  
  
  


The car behind him honks, and Harry tosses his phone into the passenger seat. He’s usually a much more careful driver, and he’s extra vigilant on the way home, as if that will somehow make up for him texting his boyfriend when he should’ve been paying attention to the stoplight. Boyfriend. Most days he doesn’t even think the word, and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t even said it out loud. 

For the rest of the drive, he’s distracted. He doesn't  _ want _ Louis to be his boyfriend. People like Harry don’t have boyfriends. In an ideal world, Louis would be his Alpha. His mate. That’s such an outlandish idea that Harry can’t help but laugh. His mind can’t handle it. It’s late, he’s tired, and he smells like chlorine. 

When Louis arrives, he’s carrying Tupperware containers and a gift bag, and Harry doesn’t know if he’s ever been so happy to see someone.

“Zayn’s night to make dinner, and he made extra for you.” Louis passes Harry the Tupperware containers and he carries them into the kitchen. “I told him no tomatoes, ’cause they give you indigestion.”

“Oh my God, Louis,” Harry says around a mouthful of potatoes and cauliflower. “Don’t tell people that.”

“Not people. Zayn and Liam.”

“They don’t count as people?” Harry asks.

“Well, I mean, I’m not going to tell just anyone stuff like that, but Zayn and Liam… I don’t know. They want to know.” Louis shrugs and opens the second container, holding up a twisted piece of fried dough. “I also told him you were craving doughnuts, but were only allowing yourself one a month, so he said try these instead.”

Harry reaches for one and pops it into his mouth. It’s crisp and sweet and perfect for his craving. “I love Zayn. He’s the best,” Harry says wistfully. 

“Yeah, he, um, he’s great,” Louis says, closing the Tupperware containers and putting them away. “You have a good day?”

“Yes! I meant to text you, but then I got busy, and I figured I’d see you, but Zoe had her baby.” 

“Did she?” Louis asks, handing Harry the gift bag and leading him to the bedroom.

“Yes. His name is Felix and he’s beautiful,” Harry says, trying to peek into the bag as he walks, but there’s too much tissue paper in the way. “Is this a sex present? Is that why we’re going to the bedroom?”

Louis snorts. “Not unless you want it to be. No, it’s just something I knew you wanted.”

“In my bedroom?”

“Well, sort of. Just…” Louis takes the bag and sets it on the bed. “Just open it.”

Harry pulls the paper out first, and almost immediately his fingers brush across something soft and silky. He lifts it out of the bag. “Oh, you got me new pajamas. Louis! Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Louis says, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “They have like these lace up sides, so you can make them bigger as you, you know, get bigger.”

“Really? That’s convenient.” Harry shakes out the pair of black pajama pants in his hands and holds them up to his waist.

“There are two more in the bag. I got white, black, and pink. Pants and shirts.”

“You shouldn’t’ve bought me all that, Lou,” Harry says, draping the silky black pants over the end of his bed. 

“Next time I’ll ask first.” Louis settles on the bed, crossing his ankles and watching while Harry pulls each item from the bag. 

“The ties look complicated.” Harry frowns as he undoes the laces on the pink pants. 

Pushing the stretchy waist of his pregnancy pants down, he’s momentarily thankful that he’s still able to wear his regular underwear and that his pad isn’t visible. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Harry carefully steps into the pink silky pajama pants. He stands and pulls them up, finally facing Louis. 

“Beautiful, baby,” Louis says as his eyes slowly travel down Harry's body. 

Hands shaking, Harry attempts to tighten and tie the satin ribbons, but they slip loose until he growls with frustration. “Would like it if I could fasten them.”

“Let me see,” Louis says, swinging his feet off the bed and waving Harry over. Huffing quietly, Harry stands there while Louis ties little knots in the ends of the laces so they won’t slip free. He smooths the fabric over Harry's hip, then ties the ribbons into a bow. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to Louis’ cheek before he lays back against the headboard. He takes off his sweater vest and unbuttons his shirt, pulling the matching top on, then moves in front of his full length mirror to button it. Lately his nipples have been even more sensitive as the breast tissue surrounding them grows, and the touch of the soft material is soothing. Spinning slowly, one hand holding his little growing bump, Harry catches Louis’ eye in the mirror. “Louis!”

“What?” Louis sits up fast, eyes wide. 

“No, sorry! I forgot to tell you I felt the baby move today.”

“Really?” Louis grins reaching for Harry and wiggling his fingers. “When?”

“At the hospital. I was with Zoe and Felix and the nurse and everyone else had gone and I just… felt it.” Harry climbs onto the bed beside Louis, and lets him pet his stomach, though he knows he won’t feel the baby move yet. “I need to pee, brush my teeth, and take these pajamas off.”

“Why take them off? They’re so soft.”

“I keep waking up naked anyway. I might as well start out that way.”

“Lucky me, then,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows. He dodges Harry’s attempts to tickle him, and when Harry gives up, Louis follows him into the bathroom.

They brush their teeth side by side, but Harry makes Louis leave the bathroom while he figures out the ribbons on his pajama pants and pees. When he gets back in bed, it’s with a fresh liner in his briefs, and no other clothes. He still feels hot and lays on his back with the sheet and blanket pushed down to his hips. 

“What’s it feel like? The baby moving, I mean.” Louis scoots down, laying beside him, nuzzling his nose against the side of Harry's waist. 

“Like… Imagine a pinball machine, only instead of a metal ball, it’s a tiny fetus—”

“The app says they're the size of a cucumber,” Louis says, and Harry lifts his head to look at him. 

“You have an app?” 

“Yeah, the website we’ve looked at? Has an app. It tells me different foods every day, but I have a hard time picturing a cucumber in here.” Louis gently lays a warm hand on Harry's stomach below his belly button. “So, not a pinball…”

“Right. But try to imagine a tiny baby floating around and bouncing off the walls, only it’s the amniotic sac.” 

Louis hums, sitting up a little, and kissing Harry's stomach. “Are they moving now? I can’t feel anything.”

“Yeah, that’s what made me think of it. They like Zayn’s cooking. But you won’t feel it on the outside for a while.” Harry yawns, covering his mouth, and Louis crawls up next to him, pulling the blankets over them both. 


	17. Chapter 17

“Do you want to know?” Louis asks.

“I asked you first. Do you want to know?” Harry stomps his foot, but only a little. 

“I don’t know! What does it matter?” Louis throws his hands in the air, clearly frustrated with Harry’s indecision. Then he frowns. “Wait. Does it matter?”

Huffing and looking up at the ceiling, Harry says, “Only if it matters to you.”

“Oh,” Louis says, voice soft enough to bring Harry’s attention back to him. “It doesn’t. I don’t care.”

“Oh, um…” Harry scrunches his nose and purses his lips. “Then we don’t find out.”

“Okay.” Louis holds his arms open and Harry steps closer, curling his body and resting his temple on Louis’ shoulder. He inhales and Louis’ scent comforts him instantly. “Are we ready?”

Harry kisses the curve of Louis’ neck and nods. “Let me get up on the exam table first.”

At twenty weeks pregnant, the baby is still bouncing around, only the bigger they get, the less space there is to move, and Harry feels like a walking popcorn popper. His belly is unmistakable now, and he’s already lost a few potential clients because of it. It’s something he expected. As an Omega in a field overrun with Alphas, he’s accustomed to people’s prejudices. And just because someone might be willing to hire an Omega lawyer, doesn’t mean they’re willing to hire a pregnant Omega lawyer. But it still stings to know that he’s always being judged on something other than his actual ability to do the job.

He hasn’t told Louis about any of the work-related fallout. As each day passes, he seems more and more protective of Harry and the baby, and by extension, anything that might upset either of them. The previous weekend, Harry had a craving for caramel sauce with his vanilla ice cream, and when their regular grocery store didn’t have any, Louis calmly, but firmly insisted to the manager on duty that they do better to keep these ‘staples’ in stock. 

Lying back on the exam table, Harry pushes the stretchy panel of his trousers down before he tucks the paper blanket into the top of them. They keep the room warm enough that he doesn’t feel cold with his top off. 

The further he gets into the pregnancy, the bigger his areolas are, and while Louis has done nothing but praise every change to Harry’s body, his growing breasts make him self-conscious. Richard never liked that Harry breastfed the girls, and never had a thing to say about it other than to tell Harry he looked too feminine or to suggest he bind them to make them less noticeable. But in the exam room, alone with Louis and waiting for his doctor, Harry figures there’s no point in keeping them covered.

The nurse knocks on the door to see if they’re ready, and Louis looks to Harry for confirmation before sitting in the chair that’s crammed in between the exam table and the wall, and reaching for Harry’s hand. 

“Mister Styles, Mister Tomlinson.” Doctor Fitzpatrick smiles when she sees them. “Our staff sonographer will actually perform the level two ultrasound, and I’ll go over the results with you afterward. Leo is right outside, but I asked him to wait since you weren’t quite ready. Now, have you two decided?”

“Yes,” Harry says, looking over at Louis. “We don’t want to know. We want it to be a surprise.”

“Okay, great,” she says, opening the door and backing into the hall. “I’ll see you in a few. Leo, they’re all yours.”

“Thanks, Doctor Fitz,” Leo says, stepping into the room. He looks alarmingly like Leonardo DiCaprio, but Harry refrains from mentioning it, assuming that he hears that often. “How are you today?”

“Ehh…” Harry lifts a hand and tips it side to side. “Pregnant.”

Beside him, Louis snorts and squeezes his hand. Leo grins, wheeling his stool over to the machine on Harry’s other side. He turns on the television on the wall and flips off the light before squirting the warmed ultrasound gel onto Harry’s belly. At first, it’s no different than the sounds from the doppler heart monitor, and Harry can tell Louis is disappointed. But then Leo pushes a button and a black and white image appears on the television screen.

“Okay, so I’m going to move the probe around to try and get the best view of the baby’s anatomy. A lot of people think this scan is just to find out the baby’s sex, but we look at so much more than that. I can walk you through it, tell you what I’m doing step by step, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please,” Harry says, “But not the sex. We don’t want to know.”

Leo grins. “I’ll warn you when I get to that part of the scan. Most people won’t know what they’re looking at anyway, but you can always close your eyes.”

While Leo slides the probe over Harry’s stomach, Harry periodically glances at Louis, but mostly keeps his eyes on the television screen. Ultrasound technology, surprisingly, hasn’t changed that much since he was pregnant with Charlotte, and whenever he recognizes something, it sends a wave of happiness through him. The familiarity is comforting. 

After a while, Harry stops watching the screen, and watches Louis instead. Every time Leo freezes the screen and takes a still scan, Louis gasps quietly, reading the labels as Leo types them. He counts the four chambers of the baby’s heart out loud, and when Leo scans the brain, Louis says, “Look at that! A baby genius.”

“Louis,” Harry whispers. “Don’t pressure the baby.”

“I’m not. But they have a nice brain.”

Harry snorts, and Leo says, “It’s true. Very nice brain. Okay, so the baby is in a good position for me to scan the sex organs, if you want to cover your eyes.”

“Literally no clue what I’m looking at,” Louis says, still staring at the television screen. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. Go ahead.” Harry looks from Louis to the screen, watching as the image shifts and changes. It freezes, and Harry closes his eyes, but it’s too late. Maybe he can forget. 

“Okay, done with that part,” Leo says, and Harry opens his eyes again. The rest of the ultrasound goes by in a blur. Even the very last scan of the baby’s side profile barely pulls his attention, though Louis’ reaction does give him something to focus on.

“Never would’ve thought you’d be a crier,” Harry says after Leo turns the light on and leaves the room. 

Louis grabs another tissue from the box on the counter and dabs at his eyes. “Are you making fun?” 

“No! Definitely not,” Harry insists, taking Louis’ offered hand. He pulls Harry up to sitting and helps him off the table, balling up the paper gown and blanket and tossing them in the trash. Harry tugs his stretchy pants up over his stomach and slips his arms into his shirt, which he lets Louis button for him. “I like that you— Well, I don’t  _ like  _ that you cry, because I don’t want to see you upset, but—”

“I’m not upset. I’m happy. Happy tears, you know?” Louis holds Harry’s sweater up and pulls it over his head, smoothing it over his bump. He adjusts the collar of Harry’s shirt and kisses him quickly. “I’ve always been a crier. Like, even when I was a teenager. Went on a date to see  _ The Notebook _ and cried so much during the movie that my date left.”

“That’s horrible. I cry every time I watch that movie,” Harry says, protective of Louis in a way that takes him by surprise. His hormones are all over the place and he seems to be feeling every emotion with double intensity. “Makes me want to watch it again.”

“I love— that movie,” Louis says. 

Harry pretends not to hear the slight hesitation. “Me too. We should watch it tonight.”

Doctor Fitzpatrick goes over everything, and measures the fundal height, which Louis finds fascinating. It makes Harry wonder if Louis will want to measure his uterus. But most of the rest of the appointment is spent with Louis’ hand in his, while Harry ponders the fact that he won’t be able to keep a secret for four weeks; four months is out of the question. 

▓▓▓

“Do you do anything with your girls on Halloween?” Louis asks, bending over to rifle through the bags of candy on the bottom shelf, making Harry miss the question.

His brain processes Louis’ words a few seconds later. “I haven’t done anything on Halloween since Char was in high school.” 

“Do you want to?” Louis stands, tossing three big bags of candy into the cart. He tacks on, “With me, I mean.” 

Harry inspects the three bags and frowns, reaching up to get some Peanut M&M’s. “I want vanilla ice cream. I want frozen pizza. And I want to know what you mean.” 

“On Halloween, all the shops downtown celebrate. Kids come to trick or treat, families stay to eat or shop. The theater participates because, well, we have costumes, but also it’s a good way to get people to come to a show.”

“That’s smart,” Harry says, wondering what Louis’ costume might be. “Is it just you or…”

“Oh, no. Some of the actors will be there in costume. Should be fun. Lottie’ll be there.” Louis opens the freezer door and plucks out a pint of Harry's favorite vanilla ice cream. “She goes all out with the makeup.”

“I, um… I don’t think so. Sorry,” Harry says, rubbing circles over his belly. 

“Harry, you already know Lottie.”

“Not like this, I don’t.”

Louis heaves a weary sigh. “Fine.”

“It’s not. It’s not fine.” 

“Okay, then it’s not fine,” Louis says. 

“Oh my God, Louis. I— Let’s just finish shopping and talk about this at— later.”

“Fine,” Louis says, and Harry closes his eyes. 

They make it home without speaking about it at all. Harry expects Louis to bring it up in the parking lot, then in the car, then once they’re inside Harry's apartment. But Louis doesn’t say anything until they finish putting Harry's groceries away and he still has two bags that he needs to take to his place. Usually he sticks them in the fridge and takes them home in the morning. 

“So, about Halloween,” Louis starts, and Harry closes his eyes, rubbing his temples. 

“I really don’t want to… to do anything on Halloween. I don’t have a costume. I don’t even know what I would wear, and I don’t want to think about it. With Lottie, I… I don’t know. Is it not enough that I don’t want to?”

“Right. You’re right. It’s fine. Well, Zayn needs these tomatoes, so…” Louis nods and turns around and  _ leaves.  _

It takes Harry a few minutes to get past the shock of Louis’ sudden absence and decide what to do, but then he’s on his way down to Louis’ apartment, taking the stairs when the elevator doesn’t immediately appear. Before he rings the bell, Harry combs his fingers through his hair and brushes the cracker crumbs off of his shirt. 

Zayn opens the door with a frown. “Harry?”

“I need to speak to Louis. Please,” Harry says, a little breathless from hurrying down the stairs. 

“He’s not here,” Zayn says, and Harry's stomach sinks. “He went up to your place. Said you were watching  _ The Notebook?” _

Harry's face flushes hot so fast he has to close his eyes. “I’m sorry. Got a little confused.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Zayn says. 

“I’m, um… Sorry to bother you,” Harry says, waving and spinning on his heel. As he walks away, he wants to cry, but the combination of relief and embarrassment seems to confuse his tears. He walks into his apartment dry eyed. 

“You left the door open, baby. What the fuck?” Phone in hand, forehead creased with worry, Louis walks towards him, and all of the tears Harry’s held back all day break through. His shoulders hunch forward and he holds his hands to his mouth, covering most of his face, because he knows he must look a mess. 

In two steps, Louis is there, wrapping him in his arms, but unable to hold him the way Harry wants with his belly in the way. Louis doesn’t say anything, just shifts a little until he can press along the length of Harry’s side, cupping the back of Harry’s neck and easing his worry with his soothing scent. He keeps his hand there, stroking gentle fingertips through the curls at Harry’s nape, and lays his other palm on the soft swell of Harry’s belly. 

When Harry pulls himself together, he doesn’t lift his head, muttering against Louis’ neck, “I thought you left.”

“I did. Told you I had to take the tomatoes to Zayn,” Louis says, tugging gently on Harry’s hair until he raises his head and meets Louis’ eyes. “Took all of five minutes, if that.”

Shaking his head and looking away, Harry says, “I thought you were mad at me. Didn’t think you were coming back.”

“Baby, look at me.” Reluctantly, Harry faces him, and Louis says, “I am mad. Sort of. I mean, not like, super pissed or anything, but I’m not— I wouldn’t just leave.”

“Sorry,” Harry whispers, blinking away fresh tears. 

“Don’t… Harry, I wish I could understand why you— I mean, I do understand, like, about my mom. But Lottie is— Lottie knows all about you. Us. The baby. And she’s noticed your absence.” Louis loosens his hold on Harry, taking his hands instead and backing up. He looks down at Harry’s stomach and says, “I miss having lunch with you. And, yeah, I want to show you off.”

“Show me off?” Harry scoffs, wiping his eyes and sniffling. 

“Yeah, ’course.” Swinging their hands between them, Louis smiles, and says, “My gorgeous boyfriend, carrying our baby?” Harry sputters, wrenching a hand away from Louis to cover his mouth. “Why are you so surprised?”

“Do you call me that? Your boyfriend?” Harry asks, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels. 

“Yes? Do you not?” Louis’ brow creases and Harry wants to kiss the lines away. 

“I… I just call you Louis. I didn’t know if— We hadn't said…”

“Okay, true. When we first talked about this, um, you didn’t want to— to label it. But, Harry, I’m here every night lately, and we’re— you’re pregnant with our baby. I’m definitely not even thinking about seeing anyone else, and I’m pretty sure you’re not either. Are you?”

Harry snorts, sounding ridiculous and undignified. “Of course not.”

“Then, unless you have objections, I’d like to continue calling you my hot pregnant boyfriend.”

“Louis,” Harry whines, finally moving away from the door. “I’m hungry.”

“Way to change the subject, babe.”

“Louis, boyfriend, I’m hungry,” Harry says, and though Louis fights his smile, it’s obvious that he’s pleased. He leads Harry by the hand to the kitchen to preheat the oven, then to the bedroom where he helps Harry change into his pink silk pajamas, then the living room where he sits on the end of the couch with Harry’s feet in his lap until the oven beeps and he puts the pizza in. 

They watch  _ The Notebook _ and they both cry at all the right parts, though Harry falls asleep before the end. The combination of emotional highs and lows along with the footrub and the pizza are too much, and he knows he probably snored through the last half-hour of the movie. Louis wakes him up and they brush their teeth and after Harry pees for the millionth time that day, they cuddle up in Harry’s bed. No longer able to sprawl on his stomach, Harry spends his nights on his side, pillow between his knees. 

As soon as he’s in bed, though, he’s more awake than he’s been all evening, and in the dark he’s only able to focus on Louis’ body touching his. Within minutes, he works himself into a state, and if he could, he’d douse himself in scent neutralizer. Maybe it’d hide his embarrassment at how wet he is from nothing but bedtime cuddles. 

Louis kisses the back of his neck, lips brushing against Harry’s skin. “What do you want, baby?”

Harry sighs, letting his lower body go lax instead of clenching his legs tight around the pillow between his knees. “You. Your knot. Just like this.”

It’s almost impossible to turn his body enough to kiss Louis, the skin on his stomach feels tight and itchy, but he cranes his neck and Louis lifts up, leaning over him. Harry sinks back into the pillow and Louis kisses him softly, pushing Harry’s underwear down with one hand. As wet as he is, he doesn’t need much in the way of foreplay, but Louis gives him one finger at a time, sucking on Harry’s lips. 

Louis slides in slowly, nudging the head of his cock past Harry’s rim, not stopping until the barely there swell of his knot is inside. He cradles Harry’s head in the crook of his arm, circling his hips, and catching Harry’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It’s a slow pace, and he keeps Harry perfectly full, barely thrusting, rolling his nipple back and forth until beads of milk form and he moves on to the other one. With milk dripping from his nipples, Harry comes before Louis’ knot is fully formed, muscles tightening convulsively. He involuntarily fills the room with his scent, and Louis inhales, dicking in deeper as his knot grows, locking their bodies together. Louis trembles through his own release, and the pressure of his knot against Harry’s prostate forces a second orgasm from him before Louis can get a hand around him. 

Shivering, Harry shifts backwards, and Louis rests his palm on Harry’s come covered belly. Harry laughs quietly, and says, “Oops.”

Nose pressed to the top of Harry’s spine, Louis smiles and Harry can feel it. He dozes off before Louis’ knot goes down, but he wakes up as Louis is cleaning him up, and insists that they change the sheets. Once the bed is remade, Harry climbs back between crisp, clean linens, sighing happily when Louis fits himself to his back. This time when he strokes the swell of Harry’s belly, it’s clean and dry, and the baby kicks. 

“Oof.” Harry places his hand over the space below his ribs and says, “Time for bed, little one.”

“Wish I could feel them move.” Louis slides his hand under Harry’s, patting the curve of his side. “Don’t keep your dad awake. He needs sleep or he’s grumpy.”

“I am not.” The baby kicks as if to disagree. “She likes you,” Harry says, smiling into his pillow. Louis stills. “Or he.”

“Harry, you—”

“I didn’t mean to—” Harry scoots away from Louis so he can roll over to face him. It seems to take all night. He can just make out Louis’ outline in the darkness, and he reaches up to trace over Louis’ jaw. The words he’s been holding in all day come tumbling out. “I saw it on the screen. I didn’t think I’d know what I was looking at, but I’m pretty sure we’re having a girl, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about all day, trying to figure out how to tell you, because I knew I had to tell you, but I didn't want to ruin the surprise. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” is all Louis says, and Harry tries to think of another way to apologize. Swiping his thumb over Louis’ cheekbone, he leans in for a kiss, stopping when he hears Louis sniffle. 

“Are you upset with me?” Harry asks, and Louis shakes his head.

“No. Just… Today’s been a lot, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. Very much a lot,” Harry says, moving closer until he’s sharing Louis’ pillow. “Still. I’m sorry. I know you wanted it to be a surprise.”

“This is definitely a surprise, so…” Louis lays his palm on Harry’s stomach again, and the baby obliges him, bumping against his hand, though only Harry can feel it. “Is she still moving? Did she kick me?”

Harry shrugs, directing Louis’ hand closer to his belly button. “For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure she headbutted you. Her bum was here during the scan, and her feet were on the other side.”

“Ah, a stubborn little girl. Imagine that,” Louis says, and Harry lets loose a watery laugh. 

“Let’s not keep this secret. I couldn’t go a whole day without telling you, and I don’t want to have to worry about slipping up again,” Harry says, rolling onto his back, and then to his other side. He grabs Louis’ arm and pulls it tight around him, but his hand drifts immediately to Harry’s stomach again. That’s how he falls asleep. And though he tosses and turns, rolling from one side to the other all night, he wakes up the next morning in the same position he started in. With Louis spooning him, arm curled protectively around Harry’s bump. 


	18. Chapter 18

“You were right. This is boring,” Louis says.

“I know. And I’m hungry.” Crossing his arms and letting them rest on his belly, Harry slides down in his seat, leaning his head back against the wall. “How much longer?”

“Thirty minutes, give or take a few.” Louis shifts in his chair and Harry peeks at him through his eyelashes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Maybe,” Harry answers slowly.

Louis snorts quietly. “Will you come to Thanksgiving at my mom’s house?”

“Louis,” Harry says, already annoyed. “I feel like we just had this conversation.”

“We didn’t. I haven’t mentioned it in weeks, actually. And you keep putting me off. Like, not even talking to me about it.” Louis crosses his arms, mimicking Harry’s posture, and they sit silently side by side, slumped in their chairs.

After a few minutes, Harry has to pee again, so he takes his time washing his hands, giving himself a mental pep talk, and praying that Louis will be as understanding as he always is. When he gets back, he sits and turns to face Louis. “I don’t want to meet them on Thanksgiving because then I’ll feel like I have to see them again at Christmas. And Christmas is so stressful anyway, with the girls and their father—they still like to spend Christmas at home, and this is the first year it won’t be at… at my old house. And I… I don’t want to spend Christmas being anxious and uncomfortable. I mean, I  _ will  _ be anxious and uncomfortable, just because of being pregnant on top of the usual stress. But meeting your family, and being… in the spotlight, I guess you could say, is upsetting as a vague idea. I can’t face the real thing, Louis. Please, just let me get past the holidays, then I think it’ll be easier.”

Louis blinks at him, lower lip drawn between his teeth. “What holidays? Because, I mean, after Christmas is New Year’s, and after New Year’s is your birthday and then Groundhog Day and then Valentine’s Day, and the baby’s due in March, so…”

“My birthday isn’t a holiday,” Harry says, and Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Should be a national holiday.”

“Groundhog Day isn’t a holiday either.”

“So, when?” Louis asks, tapping his foot on the floor.

“Christmas. Let me get through Christmas.”

“Okay, well, what about New Year’s Eve?”

“What about it?” Harry asks. There’s no way he’s making it to midnight with how tired he’s been. 

“My mom’s friend has a party every year. My family’ll be there. The little ones go home early, but everyone else stays.”

Slowly, Harry inhales through his nose. The syrupy liquid he had to drink for this blood test is making his stomach upset. He says, “On one condition.”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and he turns to face Harry. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Actually, two conditions: you stay sober and we leave when I’m ready to go.”

“You know, it’s not a condition if I was planning to do it anyway,” Louis says, tipping his chin up. 

Leaning in, Harry kisses him quickly, and stands to meet the nurse. It only takes a few minutes for them to draw his blood, and then they’re on their way. 

After grabbing some food at the McDonald’s Drive-Thru, Harry drops Louis off at the theater, and heads to his office. It’s not something he’s brought up with Louis, but he’s considering drastically cutting back on his work hours once the baby comes. The first few years are so hectic, but so fun. He loved spending his days with the girls when they were small, and enjoyed the routines of their naps and feedings, even the diaper changes. And they really do grow up fast. 

But he doesn’t want to stay at home full time. Hopefully Louis won’t mind if their little girl has to spend a few days a week in daycare. It was such a massive disagreement with Richard, and until Elizabeth was born, he always said he’d support Harry's choices. As soon as Harry came home from the hospital, he changed his tune. Of course, back then it was sweet words mixed with guilt to manipulate Harry into doing whatever Richard wanted. 

With all of that in the back of his mind, Harry works through lunch, nibbling on a salad that Niall brings him, and he keeps working all afternoon. It’s the best way to avoid thinking about his own life and problems when he’s focused on other people’s issues. He finishes a round of emails and starts to return some phone calls, freezing at the missed call memo on top of the stack. 

Apparently Richard called while Harry was at the doctor. 

It rings four times before Richard answers, “Hello, hello, hello. Richard Henderson speaking.”

“Hello, Richard. Just returning your call,” Harry says. 

“Oh. Harry. Well, I expected to have to chase you down to get a call back. What a pleasant surprise.”

“What do you want?” Harry asks. 

Richard hums and Harry can hear him tapping his fingers on his desk. “I want to know why the girls are insisting on spending all of the holidays with you. We agreed to let them decide, but this is ridiculous. Marjorie wants to host Thanksgiving and all three of the girls insist on spending it with you. I know for a fact that—”

“Richard, will you please stop talking?”

“You don’t even like turkey!”

“Listen, I’ve got a number of calls to return. Come by my office at six. I need to speak to you anyway, and I’d rather it be in person.” Harry heaves a sigh and closes his eyes, rubbing them to appease the headache creeping in. “I’ll talk to the girls about Thanksgiving.”

Richard scoffs loudly and though Harry pulls the phone away from his ear, he can still hear him hang up. 

Long after six o’clock has come and gone, Harry hears Niall say through his open door, “Oh, shit.” 

He rushes to poke his head out and say, “Sorry. Forgot to tell you he was coming by.”

“Oh? Shit,” Niall says again, and Harry has to tamp down a smile. 

“Richard,” Harry says, ducking back into his office. He walks to the other side of the room, keeping his back to the door, watching the traffic on the street below. Richard is most likely taking his sweet time talking to Niall, enjoying the thought of making Harry wait. 

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Richard drawls, but chokes on air the second Harry turns around. It’s quite satisfying. 

Six months into his fourth pregnancy, Harry looks like he’s carrying a basketball under his shirt instead of the soccer ball sized bump the pregnancy website says he should have, only the basketball is giving him indigestion. His button-down shirt is tailored to fit over his belly, concealing the stretchy panel of his wide-leg pinstripe trousers, and his suit jacket accents his bump when he leaves it unbuttoned. Like it is now. 

“Harry! You do realize keeping this from me was a mistake. An Alpha has the right to know if—” Stopping, he sniffs the air, but Harry knows his neutralizers are working. It must take him a moment to do the math. “Oh my God. You’ve let that child Alpha knock you up? Did you have your tubal reversed? This your idea of a midlife crisis? And no mating mark? This is too much.” 

While Richard laughs, Harry closes his eyes and concentrates on the baby bumping against his ribs. He can’t think about the lack of a bond with Louis, it’s a can of worms he’d rather not open. Especially when Louis has never brought it up. Instead, he states the truth and hopes it’ll be enough to end the conversation. “Louis is far from a child, Richard. And my life is none of your business. I simply thought that you’d want to see for yourself the reason your daughters want to spend their holidays with me. I wasn’t sure if you’d take my word for it.” Harry waits for his objection, but when he doesn’t say anything further, Harry continues, “The girls are excited about another sister. And I can’t help that they enjoy spending time with me.”

“Oh, no you don’t. Don’t start with—”

“Please shut up,” Harry says flatly. “I can’t believe you thought I was pregnant with your baby. Anyway, I’ll talk to the girls. They won’t be spending Thanksgiving with me because I have plans. If they choose not to spend it with you, then you’ll have to take it up with them.” 

Harry waits for Richard to nod or grumble, but he stands there, as shocked as Harry is that he didn’t steamroll over him. After a moment, Richard finally nods. “I’ll tell Marjorie to expect them at four o’clock Thursday evening.” 

“I don’t honestly care. As I said, I’ll talk to the girls. But I’m not passing along any messages,” Harry says, pointing towards the door as he sits behind his desk. “See yourself out.”

As soon as Richard is gone, Harry folds his arms on his desktop and rests his head. 

“H? You okay?” Niall asks from the doorway. 

“Yes. Sorry. I keep forgetting to tell you things.” Harry rubs his temples and sits back. “I’ve agreed to go to a New Year’s Eve party with Louis so I can meet his family. We have a month to come up with a believable excuse for me to miss it.”

“Nope,” Niall says, leaning against the doorframe. “H, this is Niall your friend talking, not Niall your employee, so don’t fire me. You have to suck it up. Meet his family. Or you’ll wind up meeting them at the baby shower. Or at the hospital.”

Harry groans, dropping his head back onto his desk. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, well… I’m not saying you deserve it, but maybe it’ll knock some sense into you.”

“Rude,” Harry says, not lifting his head. 

“Sorry, but only because you’re pregnant,” Niall says, and this time Harry does look up at him. “Put yourself in his position, H. He’s met your family, your friends… And not just met them. Spent time with them. Your girls think he’s great and he loves you—”

“Niall!” Harry stands, shuffling papers on his desk just to have something to do with his hands. “My relationship with Louis is none of your business.”

Niall jerks back, eyebrows raised. “My apologies, Mister Styles.”

“Niall, you know I—”

“Actually, no. I don’t,” Niall snaps, backing out of Harry’s office. “Shawn’s waiting for me. We’re spending the long weekend with his family and we have a schedule to keep. You have a nice few days alone.”

While Harry stares, mouth opening and closing as he tries to find words, Niall gives him a half-hearted salute and leaves. By the time Harry decides to apologize, Niall is long gone. A glance at the clock tells him why. Almost seven, when he told Niall to take a half day. Knowing that Niall probably stayed because he was worried about Harry sleeping on the couch instead of going home makes his eyes burn. He scrubs them with his knuckles and gathers his things, locking up, and driving home. 

▓▓▓

On Thanksgiving morning, Harry says goodbye to Louis, who’s off to spend the holiday with his family. His daughters come over for brunch, which Char makes, relieving Harry of all cooking responsibilities for the holiday. 

It’s clear that the girls are worried about him spending the rest of Thanksgiving Day alone, though he tries to explain that he really doesn’t mind. He could go to Gemma’s. Zoe and Allison will be there with Felix, his mom will be there, and he knows he’s welcome. But he’s never cared for Thanksgiving. Of course the girls probably don’t know that, given how excited he used to get when they’d come home from college at the end of November. That was because he missed them, not because of the holiday. 

The rest of the day is fairly typical. He swims at the Omega-only gym, floats around in the therapy pool, and by the time he finishes showering, he’s exhausted. It’s not easy in the little locker room shower cubicle and he’s getting to the point where he can’t see what he’s washing. He absolutely refuses to put a seat in his shower at home. 

When he goes to bed that night, all of the normal bits of the day slide away. It’s the first time he’ll sleep alone in weeks, and he misses Louis. His presence, his touch, the way he seems to know exactly how to hold Harry while he’s sleeping so he doesn’t get too hot or uncomfortable. 

The absolute worst thing about the entire day is that he only gets one text from Louis. And then he only asks about the baby. He feels forgotten and with his hormones and everything else, it’s too much. Tears flow easily as he lays on his side, the only position he finds comfortable with his belly, and he cries harder imagining the rest of the pregnancy sleeping alone. It’s a horrible night spent tossing and turning with bouts of sobbing between short periods of restless sleep. 

Morning is no better. He showers, and though he’s found he doesn’t like to wear them during pregnancy, he applies his neutralizers anyway, missing the combination of his and Louis’ scent. He’s miserable, but determined to have a somewhat normal Friday. 

After a quick breakfast, he goes to the office, working steadily through the morning as long as his mind doesn’t drift. It’s mostly catch up work. As hard as he’s tried to work at the same speed and level, he’s falling behind due to doctor appointments and lunches with Louis, which he knows he should cut back on. Still, once the afternoon comes around, he’s beyond ready to go home. 

Harry forces himself to go to the gym, slogging through his laps, and floating in the therapy pool until his fingertips are wrinkled. The baby likes the water and weightlessness makes Harry's back feel better. Once he’s out of the pool, it starts to ache again, and after struggling through a shower, all of the happiness he gained for himself in the pool has faded away. 

When he gets home, he goes straight to his bedroom and takes off his suit. As nice as his pregnancy business suits are, he doesn’t want to lounge around in them. He pulls his robe on over his underwear and decides he’ll eat ice cream for dinner. It’s Friday, after all. And if he skips the pizza, he can have more ice cream. He’s pondering whether or not he wants caramel sauce when his doorbell rings. 

Annoyed at the interruption, Harry stomps his way over, and assuming his daughters have come to check on him, flings open the door, spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. Which prevents him from screaming in surprise at Louis standing in the hallway instead of his kids. 

He looks as tired as Harry feels, and the urge to comfort him, to take him to bed and hold him in his arms until they’re surrounded in the blend of their scents, is strong enough to bring Harry to his senses. Pulling the spoon from his mouth, Harry swallows the ice cream, stepping out of the way to let Louis in. 

“Hi,” Louis says quietly. “Are you, um, are you pissed at me?” Taken aback at the question, Harry nods, but then Louis nods too, and starts through the apartment to the kitchen, talking as he goes. “Thought so. Listen, I— I know you didn’t want to come with me, but it’s unfair to get mad at me for going.” 

Harry frowns at his back, following quickly when he remembers he left the tub of vanilla ice cream out on the counter. He tightens the tie of his robe, belatedly embarrassed at how he must look, not even dressed, hair still wet from the gym shower, and eating ice cream from the container. 

“I told you to go,” Harry says, leaning against the counter in front of his ice cream and crossing his arms. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t text me back, and now you’re pissed at me, so…”

“I replied to the one and only text you sent me yesterday. You asked how the baby was and I said she was fine.”

Louis pulls his phone out of the front pocket of his hoodie, unlocking it and reading out loud, “I said ‘How’s my baby?’—that’s you. And you said ‘Fine’ and then I said ‘Miss you. Can I come over tonight?’ and you didn’t answer.”

“I thought you were asking about the baby,” Harry says, resting his hand on the top curve of his belly. “And I was upset because you didn’t ask about me. But you didn’t send me another text.”

“Did,” Louis says, holding his phone out for Harry to see. And there’s the message, which clearly says ‘read’ beneath it. 

Harry checks his own phone, still sitting on the counter beside the ice cream. “I don’t know how I missed this. I didn’t see it though.”

“So, you’re not mad at me?” Louis asks, stepping closer so that Harry can smell his calming scent.

“I guess not.”

“For future reference, you’re  _ my  _ baby,” Louis says, slipping his hand beneath Harry’s robe and gently stroking over his bare stomach. “She’s  _ our  _ baby or  _ the  _ baby. Would be easier if we had a name picked out.”

Hormones, two days of feeling sorry for himself, and Louis’ touch, which he’s longed for since the previous evening, have Harry’s throat tightening and his eyes welling up with tears. He sniffles and Louis tears his gaze away from Harry’s stomach.

“Baby, what—”

Throwing his arms around Louis, Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck, stifling a sob in the fabric of Louis’ hoodie. Overwhelmed by his own emotions, and Louis’ presence, Harry can’t find the words to explain, so he just shakes his head and hopes Louis understands.

“You want to order pizza?” Louis asks, looping his arms around Harry’s back, and Harry half-laughs, half-sobs. 

“There’s two in the freezer,” Harry mumbles, not lifting his head from Louis’ shoulder. “Was going to just eat ice cream for dinner.”

“Baby.” Rubbing circles over Harry’s hips, Louis nudges his nose against Harry’s neck. They can’t even hug properly with Harry’s expanding waistline, and that thought along with the memory of how long it took him to lose the baby weight after Charlotte was born, have him crying all over again. “Let me scent you?”

“Please,” Harry says, voice cracking. “Sorry I’m such a mess.”

“Hush,” Louis whispers, his scent filling Harry’s lungs as he inhales. “You’re allowed to be a mess sometimes.”

“I’m not.”

“Says who?” Louis pulls back, hooking his finger under Harry’s chin, and forcing him to meet his eyes. “You’re allowed to cry, Harry. Or be upset or angry or… You’re allowed to have feelings. Even if those feelings are like ‘pissed off at Louis’ feelings.”

“I don’t want to have  _ those _ feelings,” Harry says, because he doesn’t. He’s not been genuinely mad at Louis at all. So far, anyway. He drops his chin, looking at his stomach while he talks. “You’re… You're too good to me. Too kind and too forgiving of my moods and my anxiety and everything. You’re wonderful. And I… I jump to conclusions and I haven’t been fair to you. I’ve asked so much of you. You take such good care of me and do so many things that you don’t have to do and I… All you’ve ever asked me to do— The only thing you’ve asked me to do is meet your family, and I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

“But you’re going to. You’re going to meet them and they’re going to love you as much as I do,” Louis says, so sincerely that Harry wants to believe him. They both seem to realize what Louis said at the same time, Louis’ eyes going wide and Harry’s mouth falling open. 

“Louis,” Harry starts, shaking his head, but no words follow. He wants to tell Louis he’s wrong, that Louis doesn’t love him, he can’t love him, but he can’t make himself say anything at all when his own heart wants nothing more. 

“I do,” Louis says, running his hands down the outside of Harry’s arms and circling his fingers around his wrists. “And I… I know you don’t trust that. But I love you, and I love our baby.” Harry stares at him, blinking fast to keep fresh tears at bay, still unable to respond. Swinging their arms between them, Louis asks, “Now, do you want pizza?” 

All Harry can do is nod, too shaken up by Louis’ confession. Of course he loves the baby. It seems impossible that Louis could love him too. Harry’s pregnancy pheromones must be reeking havoc on Louis’ Alpha instincts and emotions.

Louis sends him to the living room while he puts their pizzas in the oven, and Harry sits, twisting his fingers in his disappearing lap. When Louis joins him on the couch, Harry remembers what he’s wearing, and blushes as he tries to adjust his robe. But Louis merely pats his hand on his lap, wordlessly asking to massage Harry’s feet like he usually does, so Harry lays back and closes his eyes, unable to watch Louis touch him so tenderly. The physical sensation is more than enough to make his heart ache. 

Their Friday night movie this week is  _ Pretty Woman, _ Harry's choice and one of his favorites. He remembers seeing it in the theater with Richard when it was first released. The idea that an Alpha would hire an Omega prostitute as a companion and not expect sex was mindblowing to him, and despite its flaws, Harry still loves it. After they eat their pizza, Louis brings him a dish of ice cream and as soon as Harry finishes his, he lays down on his side, head in Louis’ lap, and the baby starts to do her nightly dance. 

Louis combs his fingers through Harry's hair, lightly scratching his scalp, and says, “I’m surprised you suggested this movie.”

“Why?” 

“Well, Richard Gere is like twenty years older than Julia Roberts,” Louis says, pointing at the screen where Edward is climbing the fire escape to Vivian’s apartment. 

“Yeah, but he’s—” Harry stops himself from saying ‘an Alpha’, but Louis bristles, untangling his fingers from Harry’s curls. 

“Oh,” Louis says. 

Harry sits, pushing himself upright with both hands because it’s a struggle otherwise. “I, um…”

“Actually, I— I don’t want you to explain. I get it.” Gathering their empty ice cream dishes, Louis stands and takes them to the kitchen. 

When he doesn’t return after a moment, Harry pauses the movie and follows him, watching Louis’ back while he stands at the sink hand washing the few dishes they used instead of putting them in the dishwasher.

There’s nothing Harry can say. He knows Louis has him figured out, but Harry can’t help but feel he’s in the right. It  _ is _ different for an Alpha to be twenty years older than their Omega. It’s almost normal, and it’s definitely acceptable in their society, much more so the older the Omega is. People rarely bat an eye at a sixty year old Alpha mated to a forty year old Omega; it’s commonplace for Alphas to be older than their mates. But Harry could count on one hand the number of couples he knows personally where the Alpha is younger, and he can’t think of a single couple where the Alpha is twenty years younger. 

Harry stands there, knowing that Louis must be aware of his presence, and that he’s choosing not to acknowledge him. And because he doesn’t know what to say or what else to do, Harry goes to his room. He hangs his robe and steps out of his stretchy pregnancy high waisted briefs, leaving his silk pajamas in the drawer, and pulling a pair of Louis’ boxers on. They sit under his belly and he’s carrying low like he did with Jane, so they barely cover anything, but it’s better than being naked, and it’s the only thing he knows he’ll still have on when he wakes up the next day. 

Even with the baby hiccuping, the routine of his evening is more lonesome than the previous night, and while he brushes his teeth, and pees, and rubs lotion on the tight skin of his belly, Harry’s loneliness grows. In his bed, Harry faces the open doorway, pulls the blankets over his shoulder, and closes his eyes, trying to will the baby’s hiccups away. 

Louis clears his throat and Harry blinks, attempting to focus on his face with the light glowing behind him. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Do you want to stay?” Harry asks and Louis huffs, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. 

“Always,” Louis says, turning his head away when his voice cracks. 

“As long as you want to stay, I want you to stay,” Harry says, and he knows he sounds desperate. 

For a moment, Louis stands there, not speaking, then he nods once, stepping into the room. “Okay.”

Harry watches him walk into the bathroom, and shut the door, burying his face in the pillow as soon as Louis is out of sight. The second Louis opens the bathroom door, already undressed to his boxers, Harry tries to apologize, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t, Harry,” Louis says, sounding tired. “Not— I didn’t mean to tell you. I knew how it would go, and you can’t make yourself feel something you don’t. But the rest, can we just… leave it?”

Nodding quickly, Harry whispers, “Yes.”

He keeps his eyes on Louis as he crosses the room, climbing up the bed from the bottom, and crawling under the blanket, squeezing them shut when cool air settles beneath the sheets in the space between them. The baby bounces against the side of Harry’s stomach where it rests on the mattress and he wraps his arm over his belly, tucking his hand between the bed and his body. 

Louis moves closer, and for the first time, his scent differs. He smells uncertain and Harry wonders why he can tell so easily when he typically has trouble picking apart the notes of his scent. The first touch of Louis’ fingertips to his side sends warmth skittering over his skin, and when he slides his hand over Harry's ribs to his hip, just above the waistband of his boxers, the baby bumps behind Harry’s belly button. 

Pressing his palm against what he thinks is the baby’s bum, Harry prays she isn’t going to start hiccuping again. Slowly, Louis eliminates the space between them, his chest to Harry’s back. He smooths his hand over Harry's belly, the same way he does every night, fitting it underneath Harry’s. Louis’ hair tickles and his beard scratches between Harry's shoulder blades when he rests his forehead at the base of Harry's neck. 

The baby kicks twice in a row, and Louis sucks in a sharp breath. “Was that…” 

Harry barely breathes. “Yes.”

Spreading his fingers out over Harry’s stomach, Louis blinks and Harry can feel his long eyelashes brush his skin. The baby bounces off of Louis’ hand again and sadness threads its way through their blended scents. 

The next day, Louis goes out of his way to act normal. He calls Harry ‘baby’ and texts him dozens of baby names and asks him to go walking in the park across from their apartment building, holding his hand the entire time. He cooks pasta for dinner and massages Harry's lower back and if Harry hadn’t been there the night before, he wouldn’t notice a difference. Except for the faint trace of sorrow in his scent. That too is gone soon enough to give Harry pause, but with the approaching holiday and the looming third trimester, Harry pushes it to the back of his mind. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art early on in the chapter was drawn by Maggie @hereforlou 💗

During his previous pregnancies, Harry staunchly ignored his sexual thoughts and desires, since Richard did the same. He never touched himself unless he couldn’t stand not to, and then he waited until he was alone in the house and in the shower with the bathroom door locked. Even then it was merely a physical release. A valve he could use to let off some of the mental pressure. Not that it always helped. Richard never spoke of it, but Harry’s sure he was aware of it, and that he disapproved. It’s more difficult to pretend he doesn’t want Louis’ touch when he’s right there, willing to do anything, and anticipating Harry's needs. 

Including easing him down onto the bed to lay on his side, and sucking him off, the morning before his next doctor’s appointment. He lies there panting, dreading the splatter of Louis’ come across his just-washed belly, as he watches through half-closed eyes while Louis jerks himself off. Louis’ mouth hangs open and his eyes drift over Harry's naked, pregnant body. Grunting when his knot begins to expand, Louis wraps his hand around it, fingers tightening as he comes into his other hand. He works himself through his orgasm, and climbs off the bed to clean up before his knot fully deflates. 

Afterward, he kisses Harry gently, sucking on his swollen lips, a symptom of the upcoming third trimester that Harry's always hated, and wipes him down with a warm, damp cloth. Harry applies his scent neutralizers and gets dressed in his pregnancy jeans, pulling an oversized sweater on, and bundling up with a coat, hat, and mittens. It isn’t that cold outside, but Louis worries, and Harry can handle an extra layer or two of warmth if it makes him happy. 

Louis guides him through the doctor’s office corridors, holding his things for him while Harry pees into a cup. It’s much harder to aim into such a small container when he can’t see his dick, and he winds up sitting down in order to not make a mess of the bathroom. His face looks pregnant. He doesn’t know how else to describe it. Puffy lips, wider nose, round cheeks which are almost always flushed pink. Harry scrubs his hands clean and steps back into the hallway, moving right along to the scale, which he faces away from, not wanting to know how much weight he’s gained when he has twelve weeks to his due date. 

Despite hearing the baby’s heartbeat every visit, Louis still seems fascinated by it, closing his eyes to listen, until the doctor takes the probe away from Harry’s stomach and wipes the gel from his skin. 

“Twenty-eight weeks! Welcome to the home stretch, Harry,” Doctor Fitzpatrick says with a smile. “Obviously, this isn’t your first rodeo, but we do have third trimester points to touch on. Unless you have any specific questions?”

“This is the third trimester?” Louis asks, and Harry has to laugh. As if he hasn’t been checking the pregnancy app on his phone every single day. “What? I’m just making sure.”

“Yes, this is the third trimester. Now’s the time to start thinking about the four B’s: baby proofing, birth plan, beds, and bonds.” Doctor Fitzpatrick looks from Harry to Louis, and starts with the elephant that follows them into every room. “In a situation such as this where a baby is conceived before a couple has a chance to bond, Alphas have been known to place their mating bite in the heat of the moment, while Omegas often want to wait until the first heat after the baby is born. I’m happy to see that you’ve decided to hold off on that decision.”

Harry sends up a prayer of thanks for his neutralizers. He can smell hints of conflicting emotions rolling off of Louis: disappointment, desire, pride, and agitation mix with his normal scent, and Doctor Fitzpatrick probably smells them too. 

She continues onto the other B’s quickly. “Birth plan. We’ll monitor you closely, but for now I’m planning to perform a cesarean delivery on your due date, March fifteenth. We don’t want to do it any earlier unless we have reason to. Other than the scheduling, be thinking about who you’ll want in the operating room with you—I assume Mister Tomlinson will be there since he’s on record as the Alpha parent, but it’s always a good idea to have a second, in case he’s unable to attend the birth for one reason or another.”

Raising his hand as if he’s in a classroom, Louis clears his throat. “What reasons might there be for an earlier c-section besides Harry going into labor on his own before then?”

“I could give you a list of every possible reason, but I’d rather not frighten you. None of the reasons for an early cesarean delivery are any different than they are for a typical pregnancy. And with how well Harry’s been doing so far, I’m not worried. But if you experience any pain or bleeding, you know to call me immediately.”

Louis frowns and takes Harry’s hand, tracing over the grooves of his knuckles. “So, nothing to worry about?”

“Nothing to worry about, but we’ll keep our eyes open,” Harry says, holding the back of Louis’ hand against his side where the baby is pushing against his ribs. Louis gives her a little nudge back. “If that’s all, Doctor, we’ll see you next time.”

“Not quite, Harry,” she says, handing him a few pieces of paper. “There’s a list of pediatricians there, and of course, you’re welcome to see any doctor you want with the baby, but these work at the hospital regularly. Under that is a baby proofing guide. It’s important that you take into consideration every place where the baby will spend time. And that brings us to the last of the four B’s: beds. Where will the baby sleep? That includes napping, and daycare if you plan on going back to work. So get that nursery ready, if you haven’t yet.”

Harry nods because he can’t think of anything to say. The four B’s have his mind focused on one thing: primary custody, and how difficult it might be for an older, unbonded, divorced Omega to obtain it. 

▓▓▓

The following day is Louis’ birthday, Christmas Eve, and the only part of the holiday that Louis and Harry plan to spend together. Louis specifically asked Harry not to get him a gift, which goes against every Omega instinct that Harry has, so he settles on what he considers a compromise. Since the first time they slept together after learning of the pregnancy, they’ve only had penetrative sex a few times, and all of those have been rear entry with Harry either on his side or his hand and knees. It’s been easier, since he can’t really be on his back, and recently he’s been glad of the excuse not to make eye contact while they’re locked together on Louis’ knot. But for Louis’ birthday, Harry plans to ride him. He knows Louis wants it, has seen the way he looks at Harry when he sits back on his haunches to stretch his muscles, and he wants to give that to him. 

Because it’s Louis’ birthday, Harry makes dinner, and it’s not until he’s at the grocery store alone that he realizes he rarely shops without Louis anymore, and he can’t remember the last time he cooked dinner for the two of them. Louis cooks almost every night and brings him food from Zayn at least once a week. 

Louis promised not to come over until six, which should give Harry enough time to get dinner started, and shower. He couldn’t bring himself to bake an entire cake, knowing that Louis would have one earlier in the day at his mom’s house, and that Harry would be left with the remains, and probably eat them all. Charlotte saved the day by baking cupcakes, giving Harry four, and passing the rest out amongst her friends, who are always willing to taste test new recipes. 

Harry loses track of time and when six o’clock rolls around, he’s in the middle of trying on his present for Louis. It’s not something that he’s done before, but he shopped around online and found a short sheer robe with matching underwear, the closest thing to lingerie Harry’s ever owned. Red, for Christmas, and because he knows Louis loves the color. Hopefully, it’s not too over the top, and Louis will appreciate it. Heaven knows, he’s not wearing it again. The lace is itchy, and even with the robe tied, it hangs open over his belly. Not to mention, it’s completely see-through. The garment serves no other purpose, so Harry considers it a one-time use thing. Maybe he’ll let Louis rip it, though he’s normally so gentle that he’d probably laugh if Harry suggested it. 

When Louis rings the bell, Harry hesitates for a moment before deciding to answer it with a smile on his face, and little else. By the time he gets to the door, he’s blushing and shaky with anticipation. 

“Holy shit, baby,” Louis says, rushing inside and shutting the door. With a bouquet of lilies in one hand and a pink gift bag in the other, Louis stares wide-eyed at Harry, whose flush intensifies under his gaze. “You look… beautiful. Love seeing you in red.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, face growing hotter at Louis’ compliment, feeling sweat bead at the nape of his neck, and wetness seep into his lacy red underwear. He closes his eyes and wishes he’d thought to wear a pad. Now he’ll have to be careful where he sits or he’ll have to have the upholstery cleaned. “Happy birthday,” he says, kissing Louis’ cheek, and taking his proffered flowers. 

As soon as Louis’ hand is free, he finds Harry's waist, and Harry honestly doesn’t understand how. Sliding his hand down Harry’s side and around to cup underneath his belly, Louis guides him into a kiss, whispering against his mouth, “Merry Christmas, baby. My baby. Can’t believe you dressed up for me.”

“Merry Christmas, Lou,” Harry says, kissing him back and circling his arms around Louis’ neck, hitting him in the head with the lilies. “Sorry. Should put these in water.”

Reluctantly, Louis lets him pull away, and Harry turns to lead him to the kitchen. He holds his breath as he walks, not having anticipated that Louis would be getting a rear view of his lacy robe, and hoping that the wetness in his underwear isn’t visible through the fabric. 

While Harry arranges the flowers in a vase, wondering how he’ll make it through the night in the itchy red lace, Louis puts his gift bag under the tree. Harry carries their plates to the candlelit table, and dinner passes in a blur of heated glances and unnecessary compliments to the chef. Before he knows it, Harry’s bringing out the cupcakes.

“Char made you mint chocolate chip, dark chocolate cherry, caramel vanilla, and carrot.” Harry sets the plate in front of Louis and hopes he doesn’t mind that there’s only one candle. 

“Are you going to sing to me?” Louis asks after he blows out the candle. 

“No,” Harry says, rolling his eyes fondly. “That would ruin the mood.”

“There’s a mood?” 

“You’d be more convincing if you weren’t smirking at me, you know,” Harry says, pushing the plate of cupcakes closer to Louis. “Go on. Char’ll be disappointed if you don’t eat at least two.”

Louis picks up the caramel vanilla cupcake and passes it to Harry. “If I have to eat two, you have to eat two.” 

“I can’t eat two. Not now anyway,” Harry says, swiping his fingertip through the caramel sauce and buttercream piled on top of the cupcake. He sucks the frosting from his finger, and closes his eyes, humming as it melts in his mouth, thankful that he made Charlotte take the rest of the cupcakes with her when she left. 

“That’s indecent, baby,” Louis says, and Harry blinks open his eyes to find him staring at his mouth. 

Harry drops the cupcake back onto the plate and says, “Sorry.”

“Jesus, I didn’t mean stop. I just meant— I don’t think I can have dessert right now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, um…” Louis stands, and Harry’s eyes are immediately drawn to the line of his cock stretching the front of his sweatpants. He picks up the plate of cupcakes, and says, “I promise to clean up if you’ll let me take you to bed.”

“It’s your birthday, Lou, you don’t have to clean up,” Harry says, but he stands anyway, blowing out the candles on the table, and following Louis past the kitchen to the bedroom. “Are you planning to stop in the middle and eat a cupcake?”

Louis shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I don’t want cake crumbs in my sheets.”

“I’ll change the sheets,” Louis says, reaching for Harry’s hand and pulling him closer. “Can’t believe you dressed up for me.”

“Well, you said you wanted me to ride you for your birthday, but I figured I’ve already done that, so I needed to make it special.”

“I said what?” 

“Months ago, in the summer. We were talking about my heats, and you said—” 

The rest of Harry’s words are lost in Louis’ mouth. He nips at Harry’s lips, gripping Harry's curls and angling his head so that he can suck kisses down the side of Harry's neck, paying special attention to his mating spot. Pulling aside the collar of Harry’s lacy robe, Louis licks him over and over until their scents blend and fill the room.

“Lay down, baby,” Louis says, but Harry pulls back and shakes his head. 

“This is supposed to be your birthday present.”

“Okay, but what if I change my mind?” Louis twists his fingers in the lace hanging at Harry’s sides. “What if I want—”

The lace rips, part of it coming loose in Louis’ hand, and Harry snorts. 

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” Louis says, but Harry loses control of his giggles, and Louis laughs too, hiding his face in the curve of Harry’s neck. “I wasn’t trying to rip it.”

“I know. It’s okay. It’s itchy anyway and I wasn’t going to wear it again,” Harry says, pushing the neckline of Louis’ hoodie aside and kissing the exposed skin. “You can rip it some more, if you want.”

“Really?” Louis asks, and when Harry nods, Louis gathers the trailing lace in his hand, bunches it together at Harry’s back, and tugs. It doesn’t tear this time, but it forces Harry’s shoulders back, making him stick his chest out, the scratchy lace rubbing against his sensitive nipples. 

“You don’t want me to ride you?” Harry asks, not that he minds being in another position, if that’s what Louis wants, but he had ulterior motives. 

“No, I do,” Louis says, leaning down and kissing the lace covering Harry’s shoulder. He tightens his hand in the loose fabric at the back and drags his knuckles over Harry’s cock where it’s trapped behind rough red lace. “Just want to make you feel good. Want to touch you first.”

“Okay,” Harry quietly agrees, letting Louis direct him to the bed. 

“Is that really itchy?”

Shrugging a shoulder, Harry says, “It’s annoying.”

“Take it off. The underwear too, if they’re bothering you.”

Harry unties the red lace robe and tosses it away. He doesn’t think the underwear will last much longer, so he leaves them on, crawling onto the bed, lying down on his side and bending his knees, arm curled around his stomach. 

“You’re so—” Louis frowns, pushing his sweatpants down with a sigh. “I know you don’t want to hear it.”

“What?” Harry says stupidly, stomach dropping the instant he realizes what Louis might say. 

“Just… You’re glowing. Pregnancy suits you. I— I’ve never been so—” Louis shakes his head, and pulls his hoodie off, climbing onto the bed. “I’m having a good birthday. Can’t wait to see what the year will bring.”

Relieved at Louis’ words, Harry asks, “What part of that was I not supposed to like?”

“The glowing gorgeous pregnant stuff,” Louis says. 

“I mean, I think I look ridiculous,” Harry says, trying and failing to contain his smile. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like that you like it.”

Louis smiles, face turning pink to match the warm blush on Harry’s cheeks. His scent is heavy and warm like a blanket when he kneels in front of Harry, reaching down to trace the curve of his jaw. “I do. So much.”

“Good,” Harry whispers, closing his eyes, wishing he could trust Louis’ feelings. Even his scent is conflicted—threads of regret intertwine with adoration and anticipation. 

Slowly, Louis skates his palm over Harry’s shoulder and arm to his hand, lifting it and kissing the tips of Harry’s fingers, one at a time. He leans down, pressing his lips to the lace across Harry’s hip, leaving an imprint of warmth behind in each spot along Harry’s side as he kisses his way up his ribs and over his tender, swollen chest. 

Lying on his side, Harry isn’t exactly mobile. Something he’s been looking forward to about today. He combs his fingers through Louis’ hair and Louis looks up at him, stretching his legs out to lay on his side as well, scooting down until his mouth is perfectly level with Harry’s nipple. The first lick somehow takes him by surprise and he gasps, laughing at himself even as he holds Louis in place, tightening his grip in Louis’ hair until he takes his nipple between his lips. 

As if planning this night for months—since before he knew he was pregnant—alongside the mostly accidental evening spent wearing lingerie, plus what his pregnancy hormones have been doing to him, isn’t enough to have Harry horny, Louis takes his time sucking on Harry’s nipples and areolas. He massages Harry’s chest and Harry moans, pushing against Louis’ mouth. Louis huffs a laugh, flicking his tongue over Harry’s nipple, and moves his hand to Harry’s lower back, pulling him closer and rubbing right where his muscles are sore. This time when Harry groans, it’s for a different reason. 

“Oh, God, I’m gonna come from this,” Harry says, inhaling deeply and exhaling when Louis pushes his thumb into a tense muscle in his lower back. 

“Really?” Louis asks, breathless as he pulls away from Harry's nipple. 

“No,” Harry says. Fingers still tangled in Louis’ hair, he guides Louis’ mouth back to his chest. “But don’t stop.” 

Snickering, Louis massages Harry’s back and sucks on his nipples, working Harry over, loosening his back muscles and drawing milk from his breasts. When Harry’s had enough, dick hard and straining against the lace, he moves Louis’ hand away from his back. Louis slides it right under the waist of Harry’s underwear, pushing them down and cupping his bum, squeezing it and slipping his fingers between Harry’s cheeks. He catches Harry’s nipple between his teeth again, biting it once more before kissing down Harry’s chest and over his stomach. 

With his round belly in the way, Louis is mostly hidden, so the first swipe of his tongue over the lace covered head of Harry’s cock comes as a surprise. Harry’s hips jerk back, and the two fingertips that Louis was tracing around Harry’s rim, slip inside. Humming, Louis rubs his lips over the line of Harry’s dick through the fabric, while pushing his fingers deep. With his other hand, he peels the underwear down enough to uncover his dick, and while Harry can’t see it, it feels like the lace left an imprint on his skin. Louis licks the underside of Harry’s cock, swirling his tongue around the head, and sucking on it, bobbing his head up and down. 

“Lou,” Harry whines, but it turns into a gasp when Louis fits another finger inside him, twisting his wrist, while taking more of Harry’s dick into his mouth. “Don’t make me come. I’ll be too tired to ride you.”

Louis fucks his fingers in and out, but pulls off of Harry’s cock, kissing the base and nuzzling Harry’s balls, pushing his underwear down off his legs with his other hand. He slips his fingers free, pressing his lips to Harry’s hip, and tossing Harry’s underwear to the floor. Louis kisses his way back up the curve of Harry’s belly until they're face to face. 

“You okay?” Louis asks. 

“Yes.” With an exaggerated eye roll, Harry shoves at Louis’ shoulder and laughs when Louis rolls onto his back. Before Louis can try to help him up, Harry pushes his upper body off the mattress and sits on his knees. “Scoot up to the headboard.”

Lip caught between his teeth, Louis blatantly looks Harry up and down while he situates himself in the middle of the bed, sitting up with all of Harry’s pillows behind him. He wraps his hand around the slight swell of his knot at the base of his dick, and gives himself a few slow strokes while Harry crawls over his legs to sit on his thighs. 

“Hi,” Louis says, steadying Harry with his hands on his hips. “You, um, have milk dripping.”

“Oops.” Harry drops his chin. Milk gathers at the tip of his nipples, beads growing larger, and rolling down his chest over the curve of the side of his stomach one after another. He looks up to meet Louis’ eyes, but finds him staring at his chest, eyes dark. 

Sitting up on his knees gets Louis’ attention, and Harry raises his eyebrows as he moves backwards. Louis hurriedly grabs his dick, holding it while Harry positions himself, eyes closed as he lowers his hips until the head slips along his crack. With Louis’ help, Harry shifts back and forth until it catches on his rim, and he stills. 

“Happy birthday,” Harry says, locking eyes with Louis as he sits, sucking in a sharp breath when Louis’ cock breaches him. 

“Fuck.” Louis digs his fingertips into Harry’s hips, his thumbs press into the tops of his thighs, underneath his round belly. 

Exhaling, Harry gradually takes all of him, mouth falling open when the slight bulge of Louis’ knot stretches him that much more. In planning this night, he thought that Louis would spend the entire time Harry was riding him, staring at his stomach or his nipples with their darkened, larger areolas. But he doesn’t. 

Louis’ gaze roams Harry’s body, never settling in one place until Harry rocks back on his cock, and his eyes snap up to meet Harry's. After that, he hardly looks away. 

“Seven months,” Louis says, bending his knees behind Harry and guiding him to lean back against them. He startles a gasp out of Harry when he wraps his hand around his dick and strokes it a few times fast. Harry trembles, clenching down on Louis’ cock, and Louis slows his movements. “More gorgeous than I imagined.”

Harry grabs Louis’ arms to pull himself forward, and clumsily bumps his belly into him, trapping his cock beneath it. For a split second, Louis looks worried, but when Harry kisses him, he relaxes, letting his hands wander over Harry’s body. He thumbs at Harry’s nipples and Harry nods, moaning against his lips, and starting to circle his hips. Just being full of Louis like that is so good that Harry almost doesn’t want to move, but when Louis pinches his nipples, Harry lifts up and starts to ride him. 

He doesn’t know why he waited, other than he wanted to make it special for Louis’ birthday, and maybe because the last time he was on top… It’s not important. What matters is that he’s doing it now, and he feels powerful and beautiful and adored, and if he spends the next two months doing anything, it’s going to be this. 

With Louis sucking on his nipples and licking the milk from his chest, Harry bounces on his cock, letting gravity do most of the work. If there was ever a reason he runs and swims as much as he does, this is it, but even so, after a while, his legs get tired. 

Seeming to read Harry's mind, Louis releases Harry’s nipple from between his teeth, and lays back. He drops his hands low on Harry’s hips to hold him in place while he bucks underneath him, making him lean forward. Harry looks down, envisioning his dick where it’s stuck beneath the firm curve of his pregnant belly. 

“Kiss me,” Louis says, and Harry does. He lifts his chin and wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders, brushing their lips together as Louis thrusts into him. When Harry sucks Louis’ lower lip between his own, he pistons his hips, knot swelling a moment later. 

Letting his head fall back, Harry groans, coming between their bodies the second Louis’ knot locks in place. Louis’ muscles twitch and Harry smooths his hands over Louis’ chest, moving in figure eights on his cock as his knot pulses inside him. 

While they’re locked together, Harry combs his fingers through Louis’ hair, studying the caramel strands. He nudges his nose against Louis’ temple and blinks. “Oh my God, you have grey hair.”

“I know,” Louis says, turning so they’re nose to nose. “They’re not all new.”

“Can’t believe I didn’t notice them.” Harry kisses the top of his ear, and says, “You’ll be such a silver fox.”

Louis barely shrugs, and presses his lips to Harry’s shoulder, mumbling, “Guess we’ll find out.”

Of course Louis will be sexy with grey hair, Harry already knows that. He hums, and says, “I’m hungry.”

Without moving anything but his arm, Louis reaches out and grabs the plate of cupcakes off the nightstand, holding them in front of Harry, who picks up the caramel vanilla cupcake. He takes the plate from Louis’ hand, and balances it on his belly between them. 

“You knew I’d be hungry,” Harry says, pulling apart his cupcake and popping a piece into his mouth. The caramel and buttercream melt on his tongue. 

“Thought you might be.” Louis opens his mouth, and Harry swipes a blob of frosting onto his tongue. “That’s good. Tell Char thank you for the cupcakes.”

“I will,” Harry mumbles around a mouthful of vanilla cupcake. 

They feed each other cupcakes, waiting for Louis’ knot to go down. When he can, Harry lifts off of Louis’ lap, his softening cock slipping free. Louis helps him up and leads him to the bathroom, leaving Harry in the shower while he changes the sheets. 

Harry carefully steps out of the shower, drying off and pulling on a pair of Louis’ boxers. He finds Louis naked in the kitchen, starting the dishwasher. After staring at his bare bum for a moment, Harry clears his throat, and Louis looks around. 

“Knew you were there. Could smell you,” Louis says, turning off the kitchen light and taking Harry's hand. 

“I  _ just  _ showered.”

“Still. Can’t sneak up on me.” Squeezing Harry’s hand, Louis leads him back to the bedroom, cuddling up behind him. He reaches for the cocoa butter that Harry’s started keeping on his nightstand, and while the baby bounces and dances, Louis rubs lotion into the stretching skin over Harry’s belly until Harry falls asleep. 

▓▓▓

Louis’ beard scratching his belly is what wakes Harry up on Christmas morning. Even in sleep, he recognizes the sensation, and it makes him smile. 

“I got you some presents. Baby’s first Christmas,” Louis whispers and gently kisses Harry's belly button. 

For as long as he can fool Louis’ sensitive nose, he pretends he’s still asleep, basking in the attention and Louis’ scent, breathing slowly and evenly.

“Be nice to your dad. I won’t be here to help him off the couch when he has to pee.” The baby flips, pushing on Harry’s bladder, and he rolls his eyes behind closed eyelids. “Can’t wait to meet you in person. I already love you so much, it’s crazy, so, like… I hope you like me. A little bit.”

Louis inches his way up the bed, kissing Harry’s chin when he gets back up to his pillow. Though Harry tries to fight his smile, he doesn’t stand a chance when Louis kisses his cheek, right where his dimple appears when his grin breaks through. 

“Morning, baby,” Louis says, lips brushing Harry’s cheek. “Merry Christmas. I made breakfast and let you sleep as late as I could, but I have to go now, so you need to wake up.”

“It’s nine? Really?” Harry tries to ask without opening his mouth; he knows his breath is horrid. 

“Mmhmmm…” Louis kisses his lips, closed mouthed and chaste, but smelling of soap and toothpaste and coffee on top of his regular morning scent. “Merry Christmas.”

Harry hums as Louis kisses down his neck, over his Adam’s Apple and the hollow of his throat. Looking at the top of his head while he kisses his way back down his belly, Harry combs his fingers through Louis’ shower damp hair. 

“Bye, baby. Love you,” Louis whispers into his belly button, leaving another quick kiss before crawling off the bed and standing. He offers Harry a hand up, but Harry shakes his head. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, pushing himself up to sit cross legged. “Happy birthday, Lou. Merry Christmas.”

Wiggling his fingers, Louis backs out of the room. “Have fun with your family. Tell everyone I said hi.” 

“You too, um… Have fun. And say hello from me.” Harry bites his lower lip, and a second later Louis is back in the doorway. Exhaling a shaky breath, Harry says, “I’m going to see them all next week. Might as well warm them up to the idea.”

Crossing the room in a flash, Louis climbs kneeling onto the bed and cups Harry’s face in his hands. He kisses him so sweet and slow that Harry forgets he hasn’t brushed his teeth. 

▓▓▓

After decades of spending Christmas Day in the house he shared with Richard, Harry’s been excited about starting some new traditions. He thought, with their mom and with baby Felix, it’d be easiest to hold Christmas at Gemma’s, but then with his pregnancy, everyone wanted to come to him, but they promised to bring  _ everything. _

He opens the door at eleven o’clock for his daughters who file in carrying presents and Tupperware and who knows what else. And after that, he’s relegated to the couch. When Gemma arrives with their mom, Zoe, Allison, and Felix, Harry is told to sit. He’s pregnant. There’s no need to get up. Someone brings him food and someone brings him gifts and someone brings him water. He gets bored until Zoe passes him the baby, and then he gets to hold Felix and panic about his own future. 

Eventually someone takes Felix, and it’s Harry’s turn to open presents. He starts with the envelopes from his daughters—three identical gift certificates to a spa for the amount of an hour long massage—which he plans to hold onto until after the baby is born, since Louis has been rubbing his back almost nightly during the pregnancy so far. He and Gemma long ago decided not to exchange gifts, so there should only be one or two small presents from his mom. She gives him a Weight Watchers recipe book and Harry thanks her with a somewhat straight face. 

“Zoe, you’re not supposed to give me presents,” Harry admonishes, peeling back the paper.

“It’s not from me, it’s from Felix,” Zoe says, winking and pointing at the baby. 

It’s a small, square, silver picture frame, almost identical to one in Harry’s office that holds a picture of Zoe, Elizabeth, Jane, and Charlotte, all standing in a row on the front steps of their grandmother’s old house. Their names are engraved inside hearts across the bottom of the frame, and in large letters across the top is the word ‘Cousins’. The new frame has Felix’s name already engraved on it, with an empty heart in the opposite corner.

“There’s a gift certificate inside the frame for you to have her name engraved, you know, if you want,” Allison says, pursing her lips and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Gemma,” Harry whispers, and Gemma tosses him a box of Kleenex from across the room. He wipes his tears and smiles at Allison and Zoe, dabbing at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you. Ugh, I have to name another baby. That’s so hard.”

“You could just let Louis name her,” Char says, balling up wrapping paper at throwing it at her sisters. 

“Might do that. Just pass that off completely to him. He’s probably up for the job.”

“Hey, what are these?” Jane asks, crawling under the tree and pulling out a large pink gift bag. 

“Oh, that’s Louis’ bag. I don’t—” 

“This says ‘To: Jane, From: Louis’,” Jane says, lifting a box out of the bag. She reaches in again, coming back with a small package in each hand. “One for Char, one for Elizabeth.” Peeking into the top of the bag, Jane reads off the gift labels, “To: Felix, To: Harry, and in parenthesis, this is for the baby.” 

Louis somehow managed to get the perfect gift for each of Harry’s daughters, and his new nephew. A chef’s hat for Charlotte, who’s been collecting different styles since starting culinary school. A tote bag for Elizabeth that has a list of banned books with little boxes beside the titles, and a fabric marker so she can check them off if she’s read them. 

“He came by the office a few weeks ago, and I think you were in the bathroom, dad. Anyway, I was complaining about my laptop charger,” Jane says, holding out the new one for Harry to see. “Love a practical gift.”

Harry gave the girls cash wrapped in silk scarves, his usual since they were teenagers. He frowns and opens the envelope with his name on it in Louis’ handwriting, reading it outloud.

_ Dear little baby, _

_ I hope you’re having a nice time with your sisters and cousins. There’s a present for you in your dad’s office. I hope you like it.  _

_ Love, _

_ Louis (I don’t know what you’ll want to call me. I’m partial to Papa, but you can call me whatever you want) _

“In your office?” Char says, already at the door. When Harry nods, she opens it, and gasps dramatically. “Dad, what— Did you know he did this?”

“What’d he do?” Harry asks, struggling to push himself up off the couch. He finally stands and waddles to his spare room. When he moved in, he meant for it to be an office, but never really got around to setting it up, preferring to work from his couch or bed. His home office furniture has stayed in the same place, pushed against the wall, with boxes piled on top. 

Now, it’s clean, and somewhat organized. The boxes are neatly stacked in the closet, the curtains are hung on the windows instead of draped across the back of Harry’s chair, and Harry’s desk and bookcase hardly take up one corner of the room. Which is good because there’s a crib and a massive rocking chair taking up much of the remaining space. 

“How did he—”

“Char did it!” Jane says gleefully, pointing and laughing. “Oh my God, do you know how hard it was to keep that secret?”

“Thanks for proving my point, Janie.” Char rolls her eyes, turns to Harry and says, “Sorry, Dad. I used my key for evil. But I thought this was a great gift, and Nana wanted you to have the crib. Louis found the rocking chair—isn’t it cool?”

The crib is the same one he and Gemma slept in as babies, and his mom had refused to give it to him when he was pregnant with Elizabeth, though he’d always wanted it for his children. She’d kept it in one of the guest rooms at her house, letting Harry and Gemma use it to put their babies down for naps whenever they were visiting. Seeing it here, in the second bedroom of his little apartment, has him feeling shaky and on the verge of tears. He crosses the room and to the upholstered rocker, and Char sits down beside him. 

“See? It’s perfect. He can sit with you. Rock the baby to sleep together,” Char says, pushing off the floor with her foot. 

“Can I sit?” Gemma asks from the doorway, and Char nods, standing and leaving the room. Fitting herself in the space beside Harry, she leans her head on Harry’s shoulder, and says, “He’ll be a wonderful husband. I’ve never known such an attentive Alpha.”

A sob takes Harry by surprise, and he wipes his face with his sleeve. “He’s, um… He’ll definitely make a good mate for someone, someday.”

Gemma snorts in his ear, lifting her head and staring at the side of his head. He watches her in his peripheral vision, but when she doesn’t look away, he turns to face her. She smiles. “Harry, I meant you.”

“No,” Harry says. “This is… temporary. Once the baby’s born, he’ll shift from caring for me to caring for her. You’ll see.”

“You think Louis is like that?” Gemma frowns, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“I don’t think it’s a matter of what Louis is like.” Harry shrugs, rocking the chair until he can stand up out of it. He rests his hand on his belly and says, “It’s biology. Hormones. Pregnancy does weird things to people.”

“I mean, you know him better than I do, but he doesn’t strike me as the type.” Gemma reaches up and Harry takes her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Come on. We have to talk about the baby shower. The girls are getting restless.”

For once, Harry is fine with handing the reins over to his daughters. They ask him a bunch of questions about his color preferences, they have him rank his favorite animals and superheroes, and they make a list of his free weekends in January and February, telling him they’ll let him know when they have more solid plans. 

The rest of Christmas Day with his family is laid back. They watch old videos from his and Gemma’s childhood that she had transferred to DVDs and his girls have a good time laughing at how often he gasps and points at the television. After they’ve cleaned up and he’s said goodbye a dozen times, he shuts the door, shoulders sagging. He rushes to pee again before double checking that he picked up all the stray wrapping paper, and going to his bedroom to change. 

The pajamas that Louis bought him still fit. The lace up sides have done the job, expanding with his waistline. But that doesn’t mean they’re easy to put on. Or take off. All he really wants is something soft and satiny to lounge around in, that isn’t difficult to put on and take off, and that he could sleep in if he ever gets to the point where sleeping in clothes is comfortable again. 

He’s still pouting about it, sitting around in Louis’ boxers and one of his many baggy hoodies that Harry keeps forgetting to return, when Louis rings the bell. 

“You look cute,” Louis says as soon as Harry opens the door. 

“I do not.”

“You do. Very cute. Wearing my clothes,” Louis says, pulling Harry into a hug and kissing his cheek. “Hungry?”

“No.” Harry shakes his head. “Tired though.”

“Want me to rub your back?” 

Harry groans and buries his face in Louis’ neck. “Maybe. I might want that.”

“Well, come on. I’m not doing it here. To the bedroom,” Louis says and taps Harry twice on his bum. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want—”

“Harry, I’m fine. Promise. Nothing to be sorry about.” 

He lets Louis guide him to his bedroom, though he does think he should’ve offered him something to drink first. It’s just hard to have normal human interaction when, once seven o’clock rolls around, he’s too tired to think straight. 

“Here,” Louis says, pulling a small wrapped package out of his hoodie pocket. 

“We said no gifts.” Crossing his arms, Harry tries to scowl but yawns instead. 

“Not a Christmas gift. It’s for the baby, really,” Louis insists, though Harry doesn’t believe him. “Or  _ from _ the baby.”

Narrowing his eyes, Harry takes the package, ripping the paper off and walking it over to his wastebasket. It’s not a small box, but it’s light, and he opens it to find a pile of pale yellow satin fabric. 

“Hope it fits. I know you’ve been wanting something other than my boxers, so…” Louis pinches the fabric and pulls it from the little box, shaking it out, and holding it up. It’s a dress, really. Satin fabric, pleated in the front and back that would probably hit at mid-thigh on Harry if he didn’t have a pregnant belly in the way. But there’s no defined waist, so it  _ should  _ fit. 

“It’s so pretty,” Harry says, cheeks heating as he imagines wearing it around his apartment. 

“Here,” Louis says, laying the nightgown on the bed. He slips his hands under the hem of Harry’s sweatshirt and tugs it over his head, letting it fall to the floor. Carefully, he gathers the fabric of the gown and helps Harry pull it over his head, kissing the tip of his nose while Harry tries to get the straps on his shoulders. 

“Thank you,” Harry says, stepping in front of the mirror and turning to the side. The satin drapes over his round belly, soft fabric cool against his skin. Because of his stomach, the dress is entirely too short in front. Not that that will stop him from wearing around the house. “It’s perfect. I wish I’d thought to get a present for you from the baby.”

“No, that’s a present from me to the baby,” Louis says fiddling with the hem of the dress. Humming, as if what Louis said makes any more sense, Harry pulls the dress off again. “What are you doing?”

“I can't sleep in it. I can barely sleep in these,” Harry says, running his thumbs under the elastic waistband of Louis’ boxers. 

“Oh.” Louis watches while Harry hangs it in his closet, turns off the lights and climbs into bed. 

Harry flips the lamp back on. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

“Thought you wanted me to rub your back.”

“No. Just want to sleep.”

“Oh, um, yeah, then,” Louis says, undressing fast and climbing beneath the blanket.

“You’re being odd.” 

“It’s Christmas. I’m allowed.”

“If you say so.” Harry adjusts the pillow under his head and sighs happily when Louis’ chest presses against his back. “Did you have a good time with your family?”

“Yeah, it was nice.” Louis kisses the base of Harry’s neck and slowly strokes the curve of Harry’s bare stomach. “Missed you. Everyone’s looking forward to meeting you.”

Harry can’t help but cringe. He’s not looking forward to it at all, so he changes the subject. “The girls loved your gifts. I’ll make them write thank you notes.”

Louis snorts. “They don’t have to. Waste of paper.”

“Emails, then. Thank you emails,” Harry says, and feels Louis’ silent giggles. “Thank you texts.”

“Maybe they’ll say thanks next time I see them. They’re very polite. Usually.” Louis lifts his head and softly kisses the barely there scar of Harry’s old mating bite. 

“I didn’t even say thank you!” Harry tries rolling over to face Louis, but doesn’t have enough leverage or space and winds up rocking back and forth uselessly. “The spare room, Lou. That rocker is… It’s perfect. And the crib? My God, my mother’s dementia…”

“Hey, now,” Louis tucks Harry’s curls behind his ear, rubbing circles over his belly where the baby has decided to try to tunnel out with her elbows. 

Snickering, Harry buries his face into the pillow, then he looks back at Louis and says, “She’s going to forget she gave it to me.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess she might.”

“I’ll just have to act really obnoxiously grateful and maybe she’ll be fine with it.” This time when Harry sighs, it’s tired and heavy. “This pregnancy confuses her. She knows the girls, and remembers them, but I think she forgets that I’m pregnant as soon as I’m out of her sight. When I first told her, she said that it’d be nice for Elizabeth and Jane to have a sister because ‘two is the wrong number of children’ and she always wanted a third.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Louis whispers, kissing the shell of his ear. 

Harry hums, but otherwise stays quiet. In the back of his mind, he’s always playing the game of ‘how old will Harry be when’ with respect to different milestones in the baby’s life. Fifty-six when she starts kindergarten. Sixty-four when she’ll be a teenager. Almost seventy when she graduates high school. 

He falls asleep wondering what age she’ll be when Harry gets too old to take proper care of himself, when and if he’ll suffer from any of the problems his mother has, and what that might be like for Louis. 


	20. Chapter 20

When the girls were little, the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve was spent teaching them to ride the bikes they received from Santa, or how to properly put on ballet slippers, or how to drive a manual transmission. Last year, when he was still living in the house, his girls drove him crazy. All three of them stayed with him from the day before Christmas Eve until the second of January, and before they left, he decided to sell the house. 

This year, his first real holiday season post-divorce, was supposed to be spent in Jamaica. Or someplace. He hadn't thought about it in detail. There were vague plans to go somewhere warm, alone, as soon as Christmas was over. An Omega-only resort or perhaps a cruise. Harry just wanted to spend a week being taken care of, where someone would anticipate his needs. But then he met Louis. 

“I do  _ not _ know what to wear, Niall!” Harry turns in a circle in his bedroom, mentally cataloguing all of the discarded clothes and figuring out how long it’ll take to hang everything back up. 

“Right, but—”

“I’m going to meet his family for the first time and you wouldn’t let me cancel, so you owe me,” Harry says. “I look awful. My face is all… round. And my belly is massive, and my ass is huge! Nothing fits.”

“But you have tons of pregnancy clothes,” Niall says, and he’s right. Harry has a large pregnancy wardrobe, but most of that is business attire. 

“I have to cancel. I’ll tell Louis I’m sick or something.”

Niall cackles so loudly that Harry has to pull the phone away from his ear. “Harry, if you think Louis would just accept that, even if it wasn’t New Year’s Eve or meeting his family, you’re kidding yourself.”

“Then what do I do?” Harry holds his hand to his heart, as if feeling it race will make things better. “I’m legitimately panicking.”

“H, sit down,” Niall orders.

“Okay,” Harry says, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Now, take a deep breath.” Niall waits a moment, then says, “Let it out slowly.”

Harry does as he’s told, and says, “Okay.”

“Better?”

“A little.”

“Good. Next step?” Niall pauses, and Harry thinks he’ll probably tell him to drink some water, which means he’ll need to pee again first. But instead, Niall says, “Talk to Louis.”

Harry groans miserably. “Fine.”

“He’d want to know. And help,” Niall says. “Probably already knows, what with how intuned he is to you.”

“He’s not psychic, Niall. And he can’t smell me from his apartment.”

“Yeah, but he sees you every day. Probably saw you this morning.”

Harry scoffs. “Fine. I’ll talk to Louis.”

“Good. You can tell me I’m right later,” Niall says, and Harry can hear him smirking. So he certainly will not tell him he’s right later. “Happy New Year, Harry.”

“Thanks, Niall. You too. And Shawn. Happy New Year.”

Before he can work himself into a cleaning frenzy, Harry sends Louis a text asking him to come up when he can. Louis shows up a few minutes later, wearing sweats and carrying a bundle of clothes under his arm. 

“Hi, baby,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose and frowning. “What’s wrong?”

Shoulders slumping, Harry pouts. “I don’t know what to wear. Nothing fits. Sorry I’m whining and apparently can’t do anything on my own.”

Louis drops his bundle of clothes on the floor and cups Harry’s jaw, wrapping his other arm around Harry’s back. He softly kisses Harry’s lips, cheek, and neck, just over his scar, and a cloud of his warm scent envelopes them, calming Harry as soon as he breathes it in. They stand there holding each other for a moment while Louis rubs his lower back, their scents blending together. 

“Do we need to go shopping?” Louis asks, and Harry laughs.

“The last thing I want to do right now is go into a changing room with this,” Harry says, backing up a bit and cradling his baby belly. 

“Okay, so… Do you want to know what I’m wearing?” Louis bends down to pick up his clothes, holding a off-white cable-knit sweater and faded jeans up for Harry to see. “Because it’s not, like, a formal thing. No one’s dressing up, really. I think. Should I— Maybe I should ask Lottie.”

“Maybe you should,” Harry says, sucking his lower lip between his teeth, and watching while Louis sends a text to his sister.

“She’ll get back to me soon. She’s always on her phone.” Louis glances down at the screen and it lights up with a message. “See? She says she’s wearing an LBD. I don’t know what that is.”

“Little black dress,” Harry says. “Which doesn’t really tell me anything.”

He looks back at the phone, eyes scanning a new message. “She says ‘nothing formal, come as you are, most people are in jeans’, so…”

“Okay.” Harry nods once, then spins on his heel and heads back to his bedroom. All day he’s been wearing the yellow satin gown that Louis gave him for Christmas, and he’d honestly prefer to keep wearing it and go to bed at eight instead of going to a party that starts then. At least, if they arrive at eight, they can probably leave by ten. He hasn’t been up that late in ages. 

“You weren’t kidding,” Louis says, shifting a pile of clothes and sitting on the bed. “Did you try on everything?”

“No. I wasn’t about to put on and take off all of those pants,” Harry says, waving at the pile of trousers on his bed. 

“Okay, so, why don’t you lay down and I’ll rub your back, and we’ll deal with the clothes later.” Gathering clothes in his arms, he moves them all to the foot of the bed, patting the mattress until Harry kicks off his slippers and joins him.

Laying on his side, one pillow under his head, one under his belly, and one between his knees, Harry hitches his satin gown up, because now that he’s lying down, he’s not sitting up again to take it off. Hopefully, Louis won’t get cocoa butter on it. 

Louis lifts the back hem of the gown, tucking the loose fabric underneath itself. Sitting on his knees behind Harry, he warms cocoa butter in his hands before spreading over Harry’s lower back. It only takes a moment for Harry to decide to wiggle out of his underwear so that Louis can get to his hips as well. 

Clever, strong fingers work the knots from Harry's muscles, and within minutes, he’s asleep. 

When he wakes, it’s to an empty bed and a clean room. All of his clothes are hung up neatly in his closet, and for a moment after he stands up, he thinks he dreamed the entire day. 

“Good nap?” Louis asks from the doorway. He takes a step into the room and stops. “Baby?”

“You… You cleaned up my mess?” Harry tugs at the hem of his satin gown, looking at his closet, then back at Louis. 

“Yeah, did I put stuff in the wrong place? Sorry. I tried to—”

“Do you want to have sex?” Harry asks. “Oh, a blow job?”

“What?”

“I— I have to do something for you. You just massaged me until I fell asleep and cleaned up a huge mess and I owe you  _ something.” _

Louis snorts, clapping his hand over his mouth. Slowly, his smile turns into a frown, and he lowers his hand, crossing his arms and dropping his chin to his chest. “Do you really feel that way or are you, like, making a joke?”

“Um… Mostly joking,” Harry says, deciding that he was at least partly joking. Partly joking, partly surprised, partly still asleep, and partly serious. 

Humming thoughtfully, Louis narrows his eyes. “Well, you don’t owe me anything. And we’re not having sex.”

Harry glances at the clock, raising his eyebrows. “You’re right, we have to get ready. I don’t want to be late.”

“No, Harry.” Louis pulls his hoodie off, still talking while he grabs his sweater and pulls it over his t-shirt. “I’m not having sex with you, since you still seem to think that’s why I’m here.”

“I—”

“And I don’t mean just right now. I mean, like, for a while.”

“Are you—”

“Baby, no,” Louis says, stepping into Harry’s space and cupping his face in his hands. He scents Harry, relieving his immediate panic, and circling his arms around Harry's shoulders. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just not getting you off.”

“Oh.” Harry rubs his nose in the curve of Louis’ neck and inhales. 

Leaning back, Louis slides his hands down, gripping Harry’s hips. “We have to figure out what you’re wearing. Can’t go naked.”

Parting his lips to say  _ something,  _ Harry can’t think of a word. He closes his mouth, pouting when Louis smiles and kisses him, walking to the closet and pulling out Harry's only pair of comfortable pregnancy jeans. 

“I wear those all the time.”

“I know,” Louis says, tossing the jeans on the bed. He opens the second drawer of Harry’s dresser, pulling out a pair of Harry’s briefs and a pair of his own boxers. “That’s because they're comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers. 

Already walking towards the bathroom, Louis asks, “Do you want a pad? I’ll—”

“Louis! Oh, my God.” Harry holds his hands to his warm cheeks. 

Spinning around slowly, Louis looks at him and props his hands on his hips. 

“I’ll get it. I have to pee anyway,” Harry says, snatching the underwear out of Louis’ hand. He splashes his face with cold water as soon as he shuts the bathroom door. 

When Harry comes out wearing a pad and a pair of briefs under Louis’ boxers, Louis is dressed and standing by the closet with Harry’s emerald green sweater in his hand. 

“That’s too short,” Harry says, rubbing circles on his bare stomach. “Doesn’t cover my belly.” 

“I know.” Louis tosses the sweater at him and Harry lays it on the bed, dropping down onto the mattress to put the jeans on, but lying there focusing on the baby’s bounces instead. Harry opens his eyes to find Louis standing beside the bed. “Is she kicking?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, reaching for Louis' hand and placing it on his stomach where the baby’s been active recently. She obliges him after a moment and Louis laughs, stroking over that spot and kissing it. He stands and takes Harry's jeans, lifting Harry's feet so they rest on his chest. “Are you dressing me like a child?”

“No, I’m dressing you like a concerned Alpha whose—” Louis clears his throat, picking up one of Harry’s feet and putting it in the correct leg of his wide leg jeans. “Who’s worried about his pregnant boyfriend putting both feet into the same leg of his pants like he did yesterday. And probably the day before. I don’t want you to fall.”

Harry watches him without speaking while he tugs the jeans up to his thighs. “You can dress me. If you want to. You don’t have—”

“Okay,” Louis hastens to say. He helps Harry sit up, and after making sure he won’t step on the hem of his jeans, Louis helps him stand and pulls them up. One of the white shirts that he wears to work with his blue suit is long enough to cover the stretchy panel of his jeans, and Louis takes his time buttoning it up. The emerald sweater, while too short, bunches on top of his belly in a way that looks intentional. Louis straightens Harry’s cuffs and collar and kisses him quickly before asking him to sit again. 

An Alpha putting socks and shoes on for him isn’t something Harry ever thought might happen. He feels like Cinderella. Or Julia Roberts. And he feels a little light headed, but it passes once Louis helps him stand. 

“I’ve never seen you wear these shoes,” Louis says, kneeling down on the floor at Harry’s feet and tapping the toes of his Mary Janes. “Are they uncomfortable?” Harry shakes his head, and Louis lifts the hem of Harry’s shirt, kissing the underside of his belly twice. “Be good, baby. Your dad and I have plans.”

He stands again, smoothing the fabric of Harry’s shirt down and taking his hand. 

It isn’t until they’re standing beside Louis’ car that Harry realizes he’s never seen it before. He doesn’t know what he expected, but Louis’ car is a royal blue late model Subaru, and if he didn’t have his hand on the small of Harry’s back, he would’ve walked right past it. 

Anxious and quiet, Harry shakes his leg and fiddles with the radio on and off the whole way. By the time Louis parks on the street outside a large brick house, Harry has to pee again. Which he decides to keep to himself. He’ll wander off and find the bathroom soon enough. Maybe he can hide there after he meets Louis’ mom. 

Before he can clamber or roll out of the car onto the grass, Louis runs around to open his door and give him a hand. And then he doesn’t let go. 

Louis holds his hand while they walk up the drive, and keeps hold of it as he opens the door. When they first step inside, he twists his wrist and laces their fingers together, leading Harry over to a group of women standing by the fireplace. Lottie, who  _ is _ wearing a little black dress, and is almost as tall as Harry in heels, and two others with darker hair, who turn to watch them approach. Harry’s steps stutter, but he doesn’t stop because of Louis’ hand in his. 

They seem to recognize each other at the same time, and Harry feels the blood drain out of his face. Holding his hand to his chest to make sure he’s still breathing, he squeezes Louis’ fingers just as Louis whispers in his ear, “Promise it’ll be okay, baby.” Raising his voice a little, he says, “Harry, you remember Lottie. And this is my mom, Johanna. And my sister Félicité.”

“Good to see you again,” Lottie says, gaze drifting to Harry’s bump. 

“Fizzy,” Félicité says, shaking Harry’s hand and eyeing his left hand, held tight in Louis’. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Fizzy, shoo,” Johanna says, swatting her hip. She turns to Harry and says, “Call me Jay. How’s your nephew? Felix?”

“Great-nephew,” Harry says, cringing as soon as he says it. 

“What a wonderful name. Your family is lovely,” Jay says, and Harry’s eyes start to tingle. He hoped to make it at least an hour into the party before he cried. 

“What’s, um…” Louis looks from his mom to Harry and back again, holding onto Harry’s upper arm with his free hand. “What’s going on? How do—”

“Where do I work, Louis?” Jay asks him with an expectant look. 

“Oh…” Clearly bewildered, it takes him a moment. “You were Zoe’s nurse.”

“You told me your mom was a midwife,” Harry says. 

“Certified Nurse Midwife,” Jay says with a laugh. “Working at the hospital is the only way I can have a set schedule.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Harry says.

“Can’t believe you two already met.” Louis rubs his thumb over the arc of Harry’s bicep. 

“It was brief,” Jay says, and Harry thinks about their short conversation about Zoe and Felix and smiles, remembering feeling the baby move for the first time. “You didn’t miss anything.”

Harry nods. “I’m sorry to ask, since we just got here, but could you tell me where the restroom is?”

“I’ll show you,” Louis says, letting go of Harry’s upper arm and resting it on his mom’s shoulder, kissing her on the forehead. He holds tighter when Harry loosens his grip on his hand. A moment later, Louis leads him through a short corridor off the entryway, into a small library. “There’s a bathroom in here.”

“Weird,” is all Harry says after Louis opens the door hidden behind part of the bookcase. 

“I’ll wait out here.”

“No, I mean, not unless you need to pee,” Harry says. Louis shakes his head. “Go on, then. Get me something to drink, please? Ginger Ale?”

“Yeah, okay,” Louis says, and kisses him before he can disappear into the bathroom. “Hate that I can’t smell you. Why’d you wear them?”

Harry shrugs. “Habit. And I have to pee. So either let me shut the door or I’ll pee with it open.” 

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Louis says, just before Harry closes the door. 

Staring into his own eyes in the round mirror over the sink, Harry quietly repeats, “Keep it together. Keep it together.” He fans his face and moves to the toilet, sitting down to pee. By the time he’s washed his hands and smoothed his shirt over his bump, he’s only feeling marginally better. And he’s incredibly glad he wore his neutralizers tonight. Louis would be able to tell him how he feels or what he’s thinking before he knows himself. 

Dabbing around his eyes with a square of toilet paper just in case, Harry takes a deep breath and pats his belly. He puts on his lawyer face and walks back into the party. 

It’s not the first time Harry's been at a party where he didn’t know a single soul aside from his date. He knows how to move through a room, and does so quickly, smiling and nodding his way in what he hopes is the direction of the kitchen. 

“Oh!” Harry stops short, holding his belly as the man in front of him does the same. 

“Oh, hi!” The man steps wide around the corner, eyes on Harry’s belly. “Nice to see another pregnant person. At least I’m not the only one missing out on champagne.”

Harry smiles, taken off guard at his friendliness, and belatedly shaking his outstretched hand. “I’m Harry.”

“Andy, good to meet you. Listen, I’ve got to get to the bathroom. Baby’s dancing on my bladder as we speak. But I’ll find you later. We can introduce our mates.”

“Oh, um… Sure.” Harry’s hand twitches with the need to touch the faded scar on his neck. Instead, he points back the way he came. “There’s a bathroom in the library.”

After that, Harry finds the kitchen easily enough, and Louis as well, standing with Lottie and Jay and twin teenage girls, who Harry knows are Daisy and Phoebe, but he couldn’t say who’s who. He didn’t even recognize Jay in the photo Louis showed him of his family. 

Louis’ eyes dart to him the second he’s in view, and he walks to meet him, handing Harry a cup of ginger ale, and lightly tracing the curve of his belly with his fingertips. “Hey, my mom was just telling me that she hadn’t put it together that she was there when you felt her move the first time. That’s pretty cool.”

Smiling, Jay says, “I knew before you, Louis. The baby likes me better already.”

“Not better than me,” one of the twins says.

“Or me, Phoebe,” Daisy says. “We love babies.”

“Yeah,” Phoebe agrees, nodding vehemently. “And we know what we’re doing. Doris and Ernie are, like, only a little bit older and we babysit them all the time.”

Daisy points across the room to the two small children redecorating the Christmas tree in the corner. “Your baby will be, like, practically the same age as their aunt and uncle!”

Five minutes in, and Harry’s ready to go. Before he does, maybe someone will mention how much older he is than Jay and throw in how he and Louis first met as well. 

“We’ll babysit whenever you want,” Phoebe says.

“Twenty dollars an hour,” Daisy adds, and Louis let’s go of Harry’s hand to help his mom guide the twins out of the kitchen. 

He appears back at Harry’s side a moment later. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry lies. “Mostly just nervous.”

“Well, you can't tell. You seem fine,” Louis says, lifting Harry’s hand to kiss his knuckles. 

“Years of practice faking it. And neutralizers.”

Louis frowns. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable or want to go home or something.”

“I will,” Harry promises. “Met another pregnant person on my way from the bathroom.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Man named Andy. Younger than me, obviously.”

“You don’t know. Maybe he’s older but just has really good skin.”

Sputtering a laugh, Harry says, “Doubt it.”

“Wait. Andy?” Louis looks around the kitchen at the few guests gathered there. “About my height, dark hair?”

“Yeah, and not quite as far along as me. His belly was more like a bump and less like a beachball.” Harry sips his ginger ale and hiccups, patting his chest. “There he is!”

Louis turns, stepping closer to Harry’s side, and letting go of his hand voluntarily for the first time all night. He slips his arm around Harry’s waist instead, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s hip. 

In the light of the kitchen, Andy’s mating mark is easily visible with his v-neck sweater, blatantly bruised over the bite. His mate has his hand cupped to the back of Andy’s neck, thumb pressing into his mark, and Harry can’t help but notice that Andy’s Alpha is much closer to Harry’s age. Andy looks from Harry to Louis, and Harry realizes who he is. He smiles and says, “Louis Tomlinson, long time no see. This is my mate, Scott Cameron.”

“Andrew,” Louis says, tightening his hold on Harry’s waist before letting go and greeting his ex-boyfriend with a quick hug. His mate doesn’t remove his hand from the back of Andy’s neck, letting out a low growl that Louis reacts to by rolling his eyes. He extends his hand to Andy’s mate. “Nice to meet you, Scott.” 

Harry watches while Scott has to decide whether to be rude to Louis and ignore his hand, shake it with his left hand, or release his grip on Andy’s mating mark. It’s a funny moment, though probably only to Harry. Scott finally shakes Louis’ hand properly, and Harry sticks his hand out to shake too. A little bubble of happiness bursts in his chest, making him grin. It’s the same feeling he gets when his opposing counsel is an Alpha with a big ego who has to treat him as an equal. 

The conversation is boring and Harry tunes it out. He doesn’t care about Louis’ ex-boyfriend or his mate, at least not about their plans to expand their real estate empire or whatever they call it. Instead, he watches Louis from the corner of his eye as he inches closer and closer until he’s pressed right up against Harry’s side. The touch and the calming scent Louis gives off relax Harry and he starts to feel sleepy. 

“Well, I turned thirty when we were together,” Andy says, touching Louis’ bicep and catching Harry’s attention, who looks from Andy to Louis and pats Louis’ arm. “I remember thinking it was such a big deal, turning thirty. And then I turned thirty-one and nothing had changed, so I started making changes.” Louis tenses beside him, and Harry frowns, squeezing his hand, as Andy continues, “You must be thirty now?”

“No,” Louis says stiffly. “Twenty-nine.”

“Oh, well, then next Christmas will be a big one!” Andy raises his eyebrows as if expecting Louis to agree with him. He turns to his mate to explain Louis’ Christmas Eve birthday, then says, “I’ve never been good at guessing, Harry. What are you, forty-three? Forty-two?”

“Sure. Why not?” Harry laughs, tipping his drink back and wishing for water instead.

Andy’s mate coughs into his fist, and Harry can’t remember the man’s name. He tips his drink slightly towards Harry and says, “If you’ll excuse us, I see someone I need to speak to.”

As soon as they leave the kitchen, Louis says, “Sorry about that. I didn’t think he’d be here.”

“They were… interesting. I wonder how old Andy’s mate is.”

“Scott? Wasn’t that his name?”

“Don’t remember,” Harry says, stifling a yawn. 

“You ready to head home?” Louis asks, looping his arm around Harry’s waist and pulling him closer.

“We’ve only been here a few minutes,” Harry says. “We can’t leave.”

“Sure we can. It’s what I usually do. Make an appearance here, go out with my friends after. The girls are leaving soon. The older twins are babysitting the younger twins—”

“Twenty dollars an hour?”

Louis nods and says, “And my mom only stays until midnight. She usually works on New Year’s Day ’cause she gets holiday pay.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees, refilling his ginger ale again. “Take me home, then.”

They say a quick goodbye to everyone, and Harry stops to pee again, meeting Louis by the front door. He helps Harry into his coat Harry rolls his eyes while Louis loops a scarf around his neck, but he snatches the hat from him, insisting on putting that on himself. Before they can walk out the door, Harry is sweating, and when they get to the car—after he climbs down into the passenger seat—he’s burning up. The scarf and hat are in the backseat before Louis can start the car, and he almost pulls over to help Harry out of the coat, but Harry tells him to keep driving because he has to pee again, so Louis does what he can and rolls down the windows. Harry finally gets the coat off and throws it in the back seat too.

“Oh, my God.” Harry lets the cold air blow over his face. He shivers and before he’s finished, Louis is already rolling up the windows. 

“Scott—that  _ is _ his name—is fifty-four. I asked him,” Louis says. “He was waiting in the hall while Andy was in one of the other bathrooms.”

“Pregnancy: the great bladder equalizer.” Harry laughs, patting his belly where their little girl keeps trying to break through, knee first. “It’s interesting that Andy would wind up mated to someone older when he dated you for so long.”

“That was, um, yeah. He broke up with me, like, the day after his thirty-first birthday. Said he couldn’t be serious about someone so young.”

“Oh,” Harry says, and feels the weight of Louis’ words. 

They’re both silent the rest of the way home. How different it would be if Louis was fifty, but he might as well wish himself younger. Then, at least they’d have more time together in the alternate universe in which they’re the same age. 

In the elevator, the distorted reflection of their two bodies, with his growing belly makes Harry smile. He turns to look at Louis, and asks, “Do you ever wish I was younger?”

Clearly offended, Louis huffs. “No.”

The elevator takes no time to deposit them on Harry’s floor. He steps into the corridor, tugging his shirttail down, and holding his belly up with his hands. Hopefully Louis has his keys. 

“Do you ever wish you were older?” Harry asks. Louis stops at Harry’s door, pulling Harry’s key from his pocket. He nods once. “Kind of expected you to say no to both. Why one and not the other?” 

Louis sighs loudly, letting them into the apartment. “I don’t want twenty-nine year old Harry. I like who you  _ are.” _

“But you’d wish yourself fifty?” Harry throws his coat and hat and scarf on the couch, plopping down beside them. He reaches for the buckle on his ankle and grunts. 

“Sometimes. Not like, often,” Louis says, kneeling on the floor in front of Harry and unfastening his shoe. 

“Why, though?” 

Louis unbuckles Harry’s other shoe and slips them off his feet, massaging his heels. He’s quiet long enough that Harry wants to ask again, but he won’t. Instead he watches Louis rub his feet, studying his face. Finally, Louis lowers Harry’s feet to the floor, and stands, holding Harry’s shoes by the heels with one hand. He offers the other to Harry and helps him off the couch. 

They brush their teeth side by side, and Harry takes his nightly supplements, then Louis undresses him. He pulls the emerald sweater off, and undoes each button of Harry’s shirt, slipping it down his arms. Harry giggles while Louis helps him out of his jeans, peering up at him from under the curve of his belly. 

Harry combs his fingers through Louis’ caramel hair, looking for his grey. Salted caramel. He laughs and says, “If you were fifty, you’d have more grey than me, I think.”

“Maybe,” Louis says, standing and pulling his sweater off, taking his t-shirt with it. “Maybe if I was fifty, you’d take me seriously.”

“I… I do take you seriously,” Harry protests. 

Louis doesn’t argue, but it’s clear that he disagrees. He goes into the bathroom and Harry frowns at the door. As soon as it opens again, Harry hurries inside to pee. He sits because it’s easier, but then he remembers he needs to change his pad, and they’re so far away… Harry blinks. There’s a new one sitting on the corner of the bathroom counter. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers as he climbs into bed, getting his many pillows in place. 

“Welcome.” Louis kisses Harry’s bare shoulder. 

“I do…” Harry pulls Louis’ arm tighter around him. “I do take you seriously, Louis.”

“If I were fifty,” Louis says, dragging the words out. “And asked you to marry me, you’d probably say yes.”

“I would not!” Harry's stomach flips at the thought, and he hopes he sounds level headed and certain. Marriage is the last thing he wants to think about. Louis proposing marriage is not what he thought it meant to be taken seriously. “We’ve haven’t even known each other for a year. And we’ve only been dating since July.”

“Yeah, but…” Louis slowly strokes up and down Harry’s side. “The baby changes things.”

Harry snorts. “If you were fifty, there wouldn’t be a baby. I do know that.”

“Oh…” Louis slides the palm of his hand around to the front of Harry’s stomach, following the baby as she rolls around. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“I mean, as long as we’re wishing, I’d wish to be twenty-five again, only without the overbearing husband and unfinished education,” Harry says. Not that he’d ever actually wish away his daughters or his life or his experiences, but sometimes he wonders how different things might be. 

“Yeah, but if you’re twenty-five, that makes me, like, three, so…”

“No, Louis!” Harry smacks his hand where it lays on his belly. “I meant for you to be the age you are.”

“Oh, well, then we’d probably have never met. I haven’t dated a twenty-five year old since I was like, twenty-two, maybe?” Louis shrugs, trailing his hand over the elastic waistband of Harry’s boxers. “Wouldn’t really call it dating either, so…”

“Oh, my God,” Harry says with an exaggerated groan. 

Louis snickers, breath warm on the back of Harry’s neck. “Happy new year, baby.”

“Happy new year, Lou,” Harry whispers, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

They fall asleep, though Harry wakes up less than an hour later to pee, then again two hours after that because he’s hot and all of his pillows are damp with sweat. Even after he manages to get comfortable with only a sheet covering one leg, he still tosses and turns, which he can’t help but think does not bode well for the upcoming year. 


	21. Chapter 21

“Why, if there’s no reason to worry, do you have to have a ‘non-stress test’?” Louis asks, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s hip. 

“Same reason Doctor Franklin gave you, Louis,” Harry says, jabbing the elevator button. “A precautionary measure because of my age.”

This honestly might be easier to do alone, but he doesn’t have to heart to send Louis home. He’s worried about nothing, Harry knows it, and knows there’s nothing to the test. The baby’s been bouncing on and off all day, especially when Harry was in the pool that morning. 

“Harry Styles?” Leo calls out, checking his clipboard. He catches Harry’s eye while he pushes himself up out of his chair in the waiting room.

Harry swats Louis’ hand away. Usually he doesn’t mind it, in fact, he likes it when Louis offers to help him out of his chair or the bed or the shower or the car. But he woke up annoyed today, and despite swimming laps and floating in the therapy pool, his mood hasn’t improved. Now that he’s in the third trimester, his doctor appointments are every two weeks, and today’s test is on top of the regular appointment he just had yesterday. 

Leo leads them to an exam room, where he instructs Harry to get comfortable—a monumental task, considering he’s expected to stay put for the next hour on a paper covered exam table. Halfway through explaining the test, the baby jumps on Harry’s bladder, and as soon as Leo finishes telling him what the next hour will entail, Harry excuses himself to the bathroom. He washes his hands twice and then wets a paper towel, holding it to his forehead and cheeks. It seems like his face is always flushed lately, and even when he’s not embarrassed about something, he looks like it. 

Back in the room, Louis sits in the chair in the corner, ankle crossed over his knee, bouncing anxiously, and as soon as Harry opens the door, he asks, “You okay?”

“Just had to pee. Again.” Harry climbs onto the exam table, huffing at Louis’ offered hand, but taking it anyway. Because it’s January and because he’s either burning up or freezing with no comfortable temperatures in between, Harry wore layers. He takes off his cardigan and long sleeve shirt, leaving him in his t-shirt and jeans. 

Reclining on the table, Harry rucks his shirt up and pushes down the stretchy panel of his pregnancy jeans to reveal his round stomach, which somehow looks larger when it’s not covered by clothes. One monitor is connected to a wide piece of elastic that wraps around him like a belt, secured with velcro to track uterine contractions that Harry might not notice. Using the handheld doppler monitor, Leo finds the baby’s heartbeat and attaches a sensor to Harry’s belly to record her heart rate during the test, then he takes Harry’s blood pressure.

“One-twenty over seventy,” Leo says, checking Harry’s chart. “A little higher than  _ your  _ average BP, but looking good. Okay, so I’ll be back in twenty minutes to take your blood pressure again, but you’re all set. Just lay there and let the monitors do the work.”

“Thanks, Leo,” Louis says, and Harry frowns.

“Thank you,” Harry says, leaning back on the reclining table. “See you in twenty.”

“Are you hungry?” Louis asks as soon as Leo closes the door and leaves them alone.

“No. Why?”

“Because you’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy. I’m annoyed. I wasn’t expecting to have to do this and I had to rearrange my day and reschedule a meeting for later this week.” Harry huffs and stretches his neck side to side. “You didn’t have to leave work.”

“It’s no big deal,” Louis says. “I want to be here.”

“Makes one of us,” Harry says, wishing he could lay on his side. He watches the roll of paper on the end of the monitor as the baby’s heart rate prints out alongside his own. She loves his belly button. With his other pregnancies, his belly button never flattened the way that some do, but this time, it’s already disappearing and he’s only three-quarters of the way through. Ten weeks to go. The baby presses against it again, bumping Harry’s palm, and he thinks of it as a high five, even if that was probably her knee.

“Okay, um…” Louis taps his knee with his fingertips and even though Harry can’t hear it, the sound annoys him. “I know the plan is for you to have a c-section, but do you have any specific things you want, for like, after? Or before? Or during, I guess? My mom said usually someone will take pictures, if you want them. I mean, I can do it with my phone. But I didn’t know if you’d want, like, an actual camera or—”

“I don’t want pictures during surgery,” Harry says, grimacing at the thought. “Won’t you be in the waiting room?”

“No,” Louis says, uncrossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. “Doctor Fitzpatrick said, since I’m on record as the Alpha—”

“Oh, well, then,” Harry says flippantly. “As the Alpha on record, you can do whatever you please.”

“What?”

“I said, you can be in the OR, if you want.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“Then why don’t you tell me what I said, Alpha.”

“Harry, I— What’s with you? Are you worried about the baby, because—”

“No. She’s fine,” Harry says, pointing at her heart rate scrolling across the monitor screen.

“Okay, but you— You never call me that. Alpha.”

“Because you’re not my Alpha. We’re not mated.” Crossing his arms over his chest is nearly impossible, but he does it anyway, staring at the monitor screen.

“That’s not— What do—” Louis heaves a sigh. “All I was saying was that, since I thought I’d be in the OR, I could take pictures. If you wanted me to. But if you don’t want me in the operating room, I… I’ll be in the waiting room.”

“You can be in the room with me,” Harry says. He hadn't really thought about it, though he knew it was something that some Alphas did. Richard always sat in the waiting room, showing up a few hours after Harry woke up from surgery. “And you can take pictures. Of the baby. But not of the surgery. Or of me.”

“Okay,” Louis agrees, eyes searching Harry’s face. “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” Harry snaps. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know, Louis.”

“Okay,” Louis says, dragging out the sound as he pulls his feet up in the chair with him, hugging his knees to his chest, and Harry looks at his own knees, which he can barely see past his belly. Lower lip caught between his teeth, Louis hums, then asks, “Is there anything you want to make sure you have afterwards? Like, maybe a special meal? I could get sushi and bring it to you.”

“Maybe. That might be nice. I don’t want you to go out of your way.” Harry watches him tap at his phone screen and realizes he must have a running list. 

“I wish I could smell you.”

“I have to go back to work, Louis.” Harry lays his wrist on the side of his neck for a moment, then sniffs it. Nothing. 

“I know. I just… I thought… People know you’re an Omega when they see you. So like, why do you care if—”

“I don’t care. It’s a habit, but I like that I don’t have a particular scent.”

“You don’t seem to mind when we’re home,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows and rubbing his forehead. 

“I… I don’t mind when we’re at my apartment. Or yours.” 

“Is it—”

“Can we… Can we not talk about this right now?” Harry whispers, turning his head to see Louis watching him nervously. “Change the subject.”

“Okay, so, what if you go into labor early?” Louis asks, and Harry remembers going into labor with Jane. He drove himself to the hospital, Elizabeth in tow, and thankfully Gemma showed up to watch her while Harry was prepped for surgery. 

“What if… I mean, if it happens, it happens. I’ll call the doctor and go to the emergency room,” Harry says. 

“Right, but, if it happens, you’ll call me?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, just checking. ’Cause you didn’t say.” 

“If I go into labor early, I’ll call you, call the doctor, and go to the hospital, okay?”

Whatever Louis is about to say is interrupted by Leo’s knock. 

“Hmm…” Frowning, Leo glances from the monitor screen to the blood pressure cuff on Harry’s arm. “Slightly elevated from what it was earlier, but still normal. Louis, if you need to scent Harry to keep him calm for the test—”

“I’m fine,” Harry insists, clenching his jaw. “Thank you.”

“Alright,” Leo says, unwrapping the cuff from Harry’s arm. “Back in twenty minutes.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and Harry closes his eyes. The headache behind his eyes is mild, but almost constant these days. 

“You don’t have to call me first,” Louis says, and Harry has no idea what he’s talking about. “Call the doctor first, if you think you should, but I just thought, if you need to go to the hospital, I’ll take you.” Harry hums his assent, not wanting to speak. Chances are, if it happens, Louis will be there in person and there’ll be no need to call anyone.

“Oh!” Louis sits back, grinning. “I got a bunch of baby proofing stuff. My mom had some of those outlet covers and I ordered a kit that has like, everything in it.”

Harry sighs. Outlets shouldn’t be a problem until the baby is starting to crawl, and then the bigger issue will be what to do with everything he owns that isn’t intended to go into an infant’s curious mouth. Which is… everything he owns. 

“So, I thought I’d do that this weekend. Just go through and do all the cabinets and everything and have it done.”

“At your place?” Harry asks, only partly listening, staring up at the mobile hanging from the ceiling. 

“No. Well, I guess I should do mine too. But I meant your apartment, since, you know…”

“It’s fine. Whatever you want to do. It’s not like she’ll be crawling out of the womb.”

“Okay,” Louis says, adding to the list in his phone. 

The printer buzzes quietly, and Harry watches the roll of paper unfurl, wondering if he could pinpoint the movements of the baby by her heart rate. Louis tips his head back to rest against the wall, closing his eyes. Harry does the same, and they sit in silence for a few minutes.

“Are you planning to work until the baby comes?” Louis asks.

“Yes,” Harry answers shortly. 

“Okay, I didn’t know. You haven’t said—”

“I’m working a lighter load already,” Harry says. “I’ll see what happens, but there’s no reason to think I can’t keep working.”

Louis nods, and asks, “What about after the baby comes?”

“What about it?”

“You don’t have to be rude, Harry,” Louis says, crossing his ankle over his knee and picking at the hem of his jeans. 

“I’m supposed to be having a non-stress test, Louis. And you keep asking me questions about stuff that I don’t want to talk about.”

“Sorry. I just thought—” Louis sighs heavily at the knock on the door, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Come in.”

“Once more, then we’re done,” Leo says, walking into the room, and going straight for the end of the printout that’s dangling near the floor. He drapes it over the back of the machine, and reaches for Harry’s arm, slipping the blood pressure cuff on. When he’s finished, he frowns and says, “Again, it’s slightly elevated. Still quite normal, but—”

“How does this affect the test?” Harry asks. “If it’s not high, but it’s higher than my norm, am I going to have to come back and have another test? Take meds? What?”

“I’m not your doctor, obviously,” Leo says. “But it’s well within the normal range, and I’m sure if your Alpha scented you, it’d be more stable.”

“I—” 

“It’s okay, guys. I know some people don’t like to scent away from home,” Leo reassures them. He waves, halfway out the door. “Twenty more minutes.”

“Oh, my God,” Harry says, covering his face with his hands and groaning. 

“Sorry,” Louis says, though he sounds far from it. When Harry doesn’t speak after a few minutes, Louis starts to shake his foot where his ankle is crossed over his knee. Harry watches it for a moment, listening to the printer hum and wondering if he’s really going to make it the whole hour without having to pee. After a while, Louis seems to have had enough of the silence. “It’s just… This is all stuff we need to talk about.”

Struggling to sit up a little because the position he’s in is starting to bother his hips, Harry says, “Talk, then.”

“Okay,” Louis says, dropping his foot to the floor and sitting forward, clearing his throat. “Okay, so I figured you’d want to go back to work, but I didn’t know when. And so, I just was wondering if you had a plan. Or if you’d thought about it. Also, with the c-section, my mom was saying that…”

“That?”

Louis rushes out, “That I might want to sleep on the couch.”

Harry snorts loudly, then sneezes, reaching for the Kleenex that he knows he can’t get to from where he sits. Louis grabs the box and hands it to him. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out. You can sleep wherever you want.”

“She just said, because of the stitches and stuff…”

“It’s easiest for me, breastfeeding a newborn, to have the bed to myself and keep her with me. I don’t like using a crib at first,” Harry says. It’s something that Richard hated, but went along with, probably because it gave him an easy excuse to fool around. 

“Oh, well, um… What about like, for naps?” Louis asks.

Harry shrugs. “I have the crib, I guess. I’ll probably nap with her at first, too.”

“But when she’s older, she’ll sleep in the crib or…?” 

“I suppose, yes. And you’ll probably need a small crib for your apartment. For when she’s there,” Harry says. 

Louis nods. “We could get one of those portable cribs. Use it wherever.”

“Sure,” Harry says, wondering where Louis might want to take the baby. To visit his mother, probably. He cups the underside of his round belly. The baby is making herself known again, right on his bladder.

“So, hey,” Louis whispers, standing and resting his hand on top of Harry’s hand. “I know that you… Things are kind of weird, right? With the pregnancy and… and everything. But I was wondering… I was wondering if you’d thought about your first postnatal heat or—”

“Are you seriously asking me if I’m planning to spend my next heat with you right now, Louis?” Harry takes a deep breath, then another, and another, trying to will his blood pressure down. 

“No, I meant—” Louis shakes his head, frowning. “I meant, if you’d thought about your heat as a, um, a time to— to bond.”

“Jesus Christ.” Harry stares at him, mind spinning, wishing his doctor had never mentioned bonding in front of Louis. The last thing he wants is Louis bonding him out of guilt or obligation. He consciously relaxes his jaw, inhaling slowly, then exhaling. He rubs at the spot where his mating mark used to be. There’s not even a scar there anymore. “When my bond with Richard was broken, I told myself I wouldn’t bond again.” 

“Oh,” Louis says. 

“And you’ve never even mentioned bonding before, Louis. I can’t believe you’d bring this up when I—” A knock at the door cuts Harry off, and he frowns at the clock on the wall. “Come in?”

Leo pokes his head into the room, then steps inside and shuts the door. “Hi, um… We can hear you—”

“Oh, my God,” Harry says, burying his face in his hands and turning away. “I’m sorry.”

Leo looks meaningfully from the machine to Harry and then to Louis, which annoys Harry, but he keeps quiet, and Leo backs out of the room again. Neither of them speak another word until Leo returns at the end of the hour. He rips the paper print out and folds it neatly, slipping it into a file on his clipboard. 

“Doctor Fitzpatrick is in her office,” Leo says, passing Harry the clipboard and pointing towards the office door. “She’d like to see you.”

“Oh, um…” Harry looks to Louis, who nods.

“I’ll wait up front,” Louis says, turning to follow Leo away from him. 

Harry peeks into the office, and steps inside at a wave from his doctor, passing her the clipboard and sitting down with the hope that this will be quick so he can go to the bathroom. 

“Harry, I think it’s best if you stop using your neutralizers for the rest of this pregnancy,” Doctor Fitzpatrick says with a frown. “They’ve been tested extensively during pregnancy, but not on Omegas your age, and well, I think—”

“Are they hurting the baby?” Harry clutches his hands to his stomach, rubbing small circles over the tight skin.

“No,” she answers. “But as with any neutralizers, over time, they can build up in your system and affect your overall sense of smell.”

“They can do that?” Harry asks, knowing that the information is probably on the side of the bottle he uses every day. 

Doctor Fitzpatrick nods. “Yes. Also, I know it can be hard to ask for what you need, but please let me know if you need a pheromone supplement. With an Alpha around, it can be tricky, but if he’s unwilling to scent you, or you don’t care for his scent, you may need—”

“No, no,” Harry says. “No. I don’t need them. At least, not now. I was… I might… If you want to give me a prescription, just in case I do need them? But I think…”

“Say no more, Harry,” Doctor Fitzpatrick says. “I’ll have the prescription called into your pharmacy of record.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers. “I, um… If we’re done, I, um…”

She chuckles and points to the door. “See you in two weeks.”

▓▓▓

“You win,” Harry says with a derisive laugh, the second they walk out of the office.

Louis scowls at him. “What?”

“I have to stop wearing neutralizers,” Harry says, walking faster to the car. 

“Why? And how is that me winning?” Louis asks, hurrying to catch up. 

They climb into the car, and Harry says, “Then you can smell me whenever you want.”

“I mean, not if you don’t want me to.”

Harry snorts. “How are you going to  _ not _ smell me?”

“I don’t know! Like, I can stay a few feet away and try to breathe through my mouth,” Louis says. “I can go to— to my apartment if you want.”

“You can go wherever you want, Louis, but I’m still going to have to stop using the neutralizers.”

“Is it… Are they bad for the baby? For you?”

Harry shakes his head, watching out the window as the cars fly past. “She didn’t say they were bad, just that they could change my sense of smell. And she offered me pheromone supplements. In case I’m not—”

“Did you take them?”

“No. She’s calling the prescription in for me,” Harry says, quickly glancing over at Louis. “I don’t think I need them. I just… I took the supplements when I was pregnant before.”

“You can, if you want to. Like, if you don’t want me to. And I don’t—”

“I never liked Richard's smell. Never wanted him to scent me. Except in heat, I suppose.” He frowns at the memory of the lucid heat he spent with Richard more than two decades ago. “And, I don’t like people knowing my state of mind by my smell. And I don’t like relying on you to scent me.”

“I don’t— You mean me.” Louis parks his car in a space close to Harry’s office, and turns to look at him. “You don’t like  _ me  _ knowing your state of mind.”

“Yes,” Harry says. 

“Even though you can know mine. Whenever you want.”

“I have to be very close to you for that. I rarely pick up your scent from a distance, and when I do, it’s a hodgepodge of dozens of emotions. Like a language I don’t understand.” Harry opens the door, clambering out of the car with very little grace. He waits for Louis to meet him on the sidewalk. “I have to go to work. I’ve got a million things to do.”

Taking the hint, Louis doesn’t offer to walk him upstairs. He kisses Harry on the cheek and squeezes his hand. “See you tonight?”

Harry nods, and walks inside the building, feeling Louis’ eyes on his back until the door closes behind him. 

▓▓▓

When Harry finally leaves work, it’s later than most nights, but Louis’ car is still parked on the street. He stops, thinking of walking to the theater, but he doesn’t like going there much anymore, and it isn’t far to his apartment. Louis is right there, though, the second Harry turns to look back down the sidewalk, walking towards him. He lifts his hand in a wave, and Harry returns the gesture, relieved when Louis unlocks his car and he can climb inside by himself.

In the elevator, Harry watches their reflection in the metal doors until they open. As soon as he gets inside his apartment, he starts taking off his layers, leaving a trail of clothes on the way to the bedroom. He showers, much more comfortably than at the gym that morning, and wants to cry when he gets out and Louis is there, in the bedroom, changing into his sweatpants. Just his presence is comforting, but when he tips his head and opens his arms in invitation, Harry can’t stop himself from getting as close to him as possible. 

“I’m sorry I was so awful today,” Harry says, shutting his eyes tight as he rubs his nose over Louis’ bare shoulder and up his neck. “I haven’t been sleeping well, and I… It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t make excuses.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says, wrapping Harry in his arms, rubbing over his lower back right where it’s tight and sore. 

Exhaling, Harry curls his body around Louis, kissing his neck. “Thank you for being shirtless.”

Louis cackles, turning his head and kissing Harry’s ear. “Thank you for being naked.”

“I’m not,” Harry says, pouting against Louis’ skin. “I’ve got on underwear.”

“Do not,” Louis says, sliding one hand down to pat Harry’s ass, and the other around to cup his cock and balls. It’s the first time he’s touched Harry there since pressing pause on their sex life and it feels better than it should, being touched so casually. 

“Oh…” Harry pouts again. “Don’t let me leave the house without pants tomorrow.”

“I make no promises,” Louis says, jumping when Harry pinches his side, tickling him. He leans over and grabs the underwear Harry planned to wear, but apparently left on the bed, and sinks to the floor on his knees. “Lift up.”

Harry lifts his foot, and Louis helps him into his briefs, and then a pair of faded pink boxers. He’s been too sweaty lately for his satin gown, but he lets Louis pull it over his head, and wears it through dinner, and while they lay in bed on their sides, facing each other, and talking about the baby names they don’t like. 

When Harry says he really doesn’t like the name Louise, Louis scoffs and pinches his nipple through his satin gown. He tickles Harry’s ribs while he laughs and kisses him, but their kisses quickly turn heated. The fear of rejection keeps Harry from asking for more, no matter how much he craves Louis’ touch, but his body does the asking for him. Cock hard and straining against the fabric of his underwear, when Louis’ bumps into it with his hip, Harry grunts. And he learns very quickly how hard it is for Louis to refuse him. 

Louis peels his underwear down and pulls the gown over Harry’s head, kissing his neck and chest as he starts to jerk him off, wrist is moving steady and sure. His pursed, pink lips hold Harry’s nipple tight, sucking a slow stream of milk from his breast. As soon as he comes into Louis' hand, body still trembling with aftershocks, Harry rolls onto his back, and then to his other side, facing away.

“Knot me,” Harry says, and Louis takes him at his word, fingers sliding through the wetness between Harry’s cheeks. He’s quick about it, fucking two fingers in immediately, and replacing them with his cock a moment later. The stretch is exactly what Harry wanted, and he tries to focus on how good he feels, and not on… everything else. Louis’ knot swells fast, already worked up from getting Harry off the first time, and when it locks inside, Louis gasps loudly, biting the back of Harry’s shoulder. Harry jerks away from the bite, and comes again, while Louis’ knot pulses inside him. 

When he wakes up to pee an hour later, Louis wakes up too, and they take a quick shower together, changing the sheets before going back to sleep. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooooooo again :)
> 
> have another chapter!

“It’s like a laser,” Louis says, turning the handheld scanner and pointing it at his own face. 

“It  _ is _ a laser.” Sticking his hand between the scanner and Louis’ nose, Harry says, “You’ll blind yourself.”

Louis drops the scanner to his side, but then he lifts his hand and spins it like he thinks he’s a cowboy, almost dropping it, but catching it with both hands before it hits the floor. 

“I don't want to do this,” Harry says, pointing his own scanner at a coffee maker. He misses coffee. 

“I know, baby, but Elizabeth and Jane are, um…”

“I know.”

“The two of them together are oddly persuasive. And scary.” Louis checks his phone and Harry peers over his shoulder. “I have a list that Allison sent me of—”

“Allison sent you a list?” Harry asks, stopping in the aisle to sniff a candle. Everything smells so strongly that he almost wishes his neutralizers had permanently damaged his sense of smell. 

“Yeah. She texted me after Christmas to tell me not to ‘let you’ get some specific brand of diapers,” Louis says with a quiet laugh. 

_ “Let me?”  _ Harry crosses his arms, wondering if anyone would buy him an espresso machine if he put it on his baby registry. 

“I know. Imagine,” Louis says. “But she did say that they fell off of Felix. Something about the Velcro.”

“Oh, um… Okay.” Harry points his scanner at the espresso machine and presses the button. “I thought, when I put the girls in charge of this, I wouldn’t have to do anything.”

“I know. But this is all you have to do. And it’s kind of fun,” Louis says, pulling Harry away from the small appliance aisle. The first section of baby stuff is full of formula and bottles and Louis stops. “Do we need any bottles? What about a pump?”

“I don’t know? Maybe. I mean, she’ll need to eat when she’s with you, so…” Harry picks up a package of three bottles and scans it, then he scans the pump that Louis picks up and holds for him to look at. 

“If you really don’t want to do this, you don’t have to,” Louis says, resting his hand on Harry’s lower back as they walk through the diaper aisle. 

“It’s not the worst thing in the world. And the shower should be nice,” Harry says with a quiet chuckle. “After my birthday last year, hopefully they’ve learned how  _ not _ to throw a party.”

“What did they do?” Louis asks. 

When Harry finishes telling him about the formalwear and the DJ and the rest of the catered affair, he sighs, and says, “They did try. I think to them it was the opposite of what my birthday was always like when I was with their father.”

“Do I want to know?” 

Harry shrugs. “Boring. A sit down dinner with my extended family that Richard always insisted on having catered. Of course, the caterers did what they could to clean up, but once he dismissed them, the rest was up to me.”

“Really? That’s shitty. Even the girls?”

“No, once they were old enough, they’d stick around and help. Became almost like a birthday ritual.” Harry laughs at the many memories of dancing in the kitchen with his daughters while they worked together to clean it. “So last year was the opposite, in a way. I didn’t have to clean anything.”

“Still. I think we can do better,” Louis says, stopping beside a bright yellow stroller and waiting for Harry to scan it. 

When they finish, Louis drops him off at his office, and Harry spends the rest of the day buried in work. He doesn’t even get to take a post-lunch nap on his sofa. And he walks home when he’s done. Louis is still working, but he comes over a few hours later, crawling into bed in the dark, and cuddling up to Harry’s back.

▓▓▓

“Where are we going?” Harry asks, climbing into the passenger seat of his little convertible. He keeps putting off trading it in for something more child-friendly, but he’s running out of time. 

It’s unseasonably warm, and he’s glad to be able to ride with the top down. Louis is too, if his grin and the crinkles beside his eyes are anything to go by. He scrunches his nose and takes Harry’s hand in his, lifting it to kiss the inside of Harry’s wrist. 

“It’s a surprise, but I promise, no caterers, no cleaning, and no dressing up,” Louis says, pulling onto the street. “No dressing at all, if you want.”

“Are you taking me to a nudist resort?”

Louis snorts. “No.”

“Nudist colony?”

“No.”

“Nude beach?” 

“No,” Louis says slowly, glancing over at Harry.

“Are you sure it’s not a nude beach?” They’re headed in the direction of the coast, and now it’s all Harry can think of.

“No!” Clearly affronted, Louis asks, “What makes you think I want you to be naked around anyone but me?” 

“Oh, um…” 

“Just be patient.” Louis lets go of Harry’s hand and reaches for his leg, squeezing his thigh. 

Harry tries. But patience is not one of his best qualities. He fiddles with the radio and messes around with his phone, but eventually gives up on distracting himself. “Louis, where are you taking me?”

“Can you wait five minutes?” Louis asks.

Heaving a put upon sigh, Harry says, “I suppose.”

Less than five minutes later, Louis pulls onto the road that leads to the beach, and Harry taps his fingers on his knee. It’s his birthday and he just wants to know where they’re going. That seems fair, after all. He’s pregnant and fifty-one and he has to pee.

“I have to pee,” Harry says, because as soon as the urge hits, he needs to go.

“Almost there,” Louis says, turning off of the main road, away from the gas station that Harry knows for certain has clean bathrooms, and onto the first street up from the beach.

“But—”

“Right here, baby,” Louis says, pulling into the driveway of a small oceanfront cottage. 

“Whose house is this?” Harry asks, frowning at the little wooden house. 

“Ours for the weekend.” Louis climbs out of the car, and grabs their bags from the back seat. He walks around and opens Harry’s door, offering a hand to help him up. “You coming?”

“You rented a house? Are the girls going to—”

“Char’s friend found the house for me, and the girls said they’ll take you out to dinner next weekend.” Louis says, and Harry waves his hand away, hauling himself up out of the car. “It’s just us. If that’s okay. I didn’t think the weather would be this nice, so I brought all your favorite movies, Scrabble, and some cards, but we might not need them.”

“What about groceries? Shouldn’t we—”

“Char said the house would be stocked. She did the shopping herself, so hopefully we’ve got ice cream.”

“No cake?” Harry asks, following him empty handed into the little house. 

“Of course there’s cake,” Louis says, setting their bags on the sofa and going straight for the kitchen. He opens the fridge door wide, and Harry can see a large white bakery box with HAPPY 15TH BIRTHDAY, DAD! on the top in Char’s handwriting, with his reversed age underlined multiple times. Along the side, in smaller letters, is:  _ Louis tried to pay me for this cake and I laughed in his face.  _

“The whole weekend?” Harry asks, cradling his belly with his hands, and slowly spinning in a circle. The little house seems to be a perfect square with the living room, dining area, and kitchen in a line down one side, and what look like the doors to two bedrooms on the other. 

“We have to be out by lunchtime on Sunday,” Louis says, stepping up behind Harry, resting his hands on his hips and hooking his chin over his shoulder. “We can leave early if you want. Or, um, if you want to stay longer, I—”

“You can’t let me stay longer, Louis. This is already…” Harry blinks tears away, turning in Louis’ arms, and bumping his belly into Louis’ side. 

Pressing his lips together to curb his smile, Louis lays a gentle hand on the curve of Harry’s stomach, and Harry cups Louis’ face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over his cheekbones until he smiles, lines beside his eyes deepening. Harry inches forward, nudging the tips of their noses together, and he’s filled with so much love that he can’t breathe. 

“Happy birthday,” Louis says, lips brushing against Harry’s. 

“Lou,” Harry whispers, resting his forehead against Louis’ and closing his eyes. He forces himself to inhale, focusing on the warmth of Louis’ scent. “Thank you.” 

Louis takes Harry’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face, and kisses him softly. He swings their hands together and asks, “You want to see the rest of the house?”

“Yes,” Harry says, and Louis smiles, leading him through the living room to the porch. 

There’s a wide wooden deck on the far side of the house facing the ocean, and like he thought, two bedrooms on one side of the living area, one with a door onto the deck. It’s quiet and peaceful and perfect, with a hammock for cuddling up and watching the sunset. 

“It’s beautiful,” Harry says, looking out onto the empty February beach. “Which room are we in?”

“Which one do you want?” Louis raises his eyebrows, taking Harry’s hand and leading him back into the house. 

“The one closer to the beach,” Harry says. 

“Thought you might like that,” Louis says, grabbing their bags and carrying them into that room. The walls are a soft blue, and the bed is low and wide, with fluffy grey bedding, and too many pillows. “Want a nap? A shower?” 

“I want…” Harry starts towards the bed, crawling on the mattress on his hands and knees, in his pregnancy jeans and sweater, belly hanging low. He slowly lowers himself and rolls to his side. “I want you. Want you to touch me and… and make me feel good.”

“I want that,” Louis says, kneeling on the bed and reaching for Harry, tracing the curve of his stomach. “Always want to make you feel good.”

Louis slips his hand under the hem of Harry's loose sweater, finding the edge of the stretchy waistband of his pregnancy jeans and peeling them down. He tugs them off of Harry’s legs, first thing, knowing that Harry would rather be naked than have to wait. It’s probably not the sexiest thing, lying on his side while Louis undresses him, pushing his underwear down, and pulling his sweater and shirt off, leaving him completely naked, but Harry can’t bring himself to complain. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers as Louis takes his socks off and rubs his thumb over the arch of his foot. 

“Welcome, baby,” Louis says, trailing his fingertips up Harry's leg to his hip. He leans down and presses his nose to the side of Harry’s thigh where the seam of his jeans left an imprint on his skin. “I want to give you your present.”

Harry blinks, smiling and thinking of Louis’ birthday. “Okay.” 

Louis kisses his leg twice, then grabs his bag off the floor and pulls out a small square package wrapped in pale pink paper. He laughs as he hands it to Harry, and sits on the edge of the bed at Harry's feet. “I tried to write you a card. Like three times. I hope you like it.” 

Inside the sheet of wrapping paper is a white box, and when Harry lifts off the small square lid, his eyes go wide. With trembling hands, he pries open the square velvet box, gasping quietly at the beautiful string of pearls inside.

“Lou…” Harry sighs and laughs rolling onto his back. Naked and sprawled on his back, holding the necklace up for Louis to see, Harry says, “Put it on me?”

“Yeah, sure.” Louis moves to stand beside the bed and Harry sits up a little to make things easier. The pearls are cool, and the tips of Louis’ fingers are warm, brushing against his skin and making him shiver. “Do you like it?”

“Love it,” Harry says, dropping his chin to see the necklace. “Thank you. I thought, when you said present, you meant, um…”

“An orgasm?” Louis supplies, an amused lilt to his voice. 

“Yes.” Falling back onto his side, Harry watches Louis from the corner of his eye as he rounds the bed. The pearls are perfect. Once again, Louis has managed to surprise him. He sees Harry for who he is, in a way that no one ever has before. Feeling seen and known while the certainty that it’ll all come crashing down hangs like a weight around his neck, makes his head spin and his heart ache. The closer they grow, the longer they stay together, the harder it will be for both of them when the time comes to untangle their lives. Whether that’s a month from now, a year or a decade away. 

Unceremoniously, Louis strips out of his clothes, leaving them on the floor, and climbing onto the bed. He kneels in front of Harry, leaning down to catch his lips in a kiss, resting his palm on the side of Harry's neck, and rubbing his thumb back and forth. 

“Baby?” Louis presses another kiss to Harry's cheek, and trails his hand over Harry's side. As he slips his fingers between Harry's cheeks, he whispers, “Can I?”

Harry nods, not that he has any idea what Louis is asking for, but he isn’t going to say no to being touched by him. 

“Love the way you smell,” Louis says, nudging his nose against Harry’s neck. “Love you.”

Harry jerks backwards, eyes wide. “Why?”

“Why do I love you?” Louis asks, as if it isn’t a valid question.

“No, why’d you say it? When you know that I…” He can ignore Louis’ feelings as long as he doesn’t say it out loud. Knowing is one thing, hearing it spoken is another. 

“That you don’t?” Louis rolls his lips between his teeth, eyes darting to the mating spot on Harry’s neck. 

“That I don’t want you to,” Harry says.

Lifting his hand, Louis rubs his brow with the tips of his fingers. “Then why am I here?”

Harry stares, jaw set. He takes a steadying breath, and says, “I assume because you want to be.”

“Of course I want to be, Harry! I just said—” Louis pinches the bridge of his nose, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry for— I can’t help how I feel. And I can’t help wanting to say it. I want to tell you all the time, but I don’t. I’m sorry that I slipped and said it, but I’m not sorry for how I feel.”

“Feelings change, Louis,” Harry snaps, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing away from Louis.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I should be the one saying that. Just because you don’t love me now, doesn’t mean you won’t.” 

“That’s not the point,” Harry says. “My feelings don’t have anything to do with it.”

“Your feelings have everything to do with it! This is literally all about you, Harry. You’re the one who doesn’t want me to— to love you? Like I should be able to just turn it off. Like we should be together, have a baby together, take care of each other, spend every night in the same bed, make love… but loving you is a step too far.”

“In a few weeks, when the baby’s born, you’ll… things will be different. We won’t be sleeping together. We won’t be having sex and—”

“Is that what this is about? You think this is about  _ sex?” _ Louis huffs a derisive laugh. 

“No,” Harry says, but even to his own ears he sounds unsure, though it’s really not about that. 

“You think I won’t love you after the baby’s born? You think I’ll just stop because— because I can’t fuck you?” Harry shakes his head quickly, and Louis demands, “What is it then?”

“How much of what you feel for me is because I’m carrying your child?” Harry asks. 

“That’s different. It’s… It’s separate. Another love,” Louis says, and Harry shakes his head again, refusing to look at him. “Harry, I was already falling in love with you before we even knew about the baby.”

“It doesn’t matter if you knew,” Harry says, pulling the blanket off the foot of the bed and wrapping it around him. “Your Alpha knew. Even if you couldn’t smell it, a part of you knew. And that’s all this is.”

“That’s all?” Louis asks quietly. The bed shifts as he gets up, and Harry won’t let himself turn around. “Did you… Were you planning to break up with me?”

“No,” Harry whispers, looking through the window at the ocean. 

“Then what?”

“I never should’ve let it go this far,” Harry says, standing and holding the blanket tight, keeping himself covered. “You don’t love me, Louis. This is… This is infatuation at best. A hormonal attachment at worst.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true.” Harry faces him, but can’t make himself look Louis in the eye. “It’s what Alphas always say. They use it in child custody cases, for Christ’s sake.”

“What?” Louis asks, and Harry raises his eyes. 

Lifting his chin, Harry keeps his voice steady, thankful for his years of experience in the courtroom. “Alphas who bond Omegas during pregnancy and then want to break the bond once the baby is born claim that ‘instinctive hormonal attachment’ is the reason they bonded in the first place. And then they use that ‘strong instinct’ to claim that they should have sole custody.”

Clearly taken aback, Louis’ mouth falls open, and for a moment, he says nothing. “You think I’d take her from you?”

Harry presses his lips together. He doesn’t. Not really. But he also thought the man he was married to for half his life was faithful. 

“Shit, Harry, you do,” Louis says, raking his hands through his hair. “You really think— I’d never do that!”

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, Harry stands still, not speaking. Unable to look Louis in the eye when he’s clearly devastated, Harry turns his gaze to the window, staring at the ocean. Though he knows that ultimately Louis would break his heart, Harry doesn’t want to hurt him anymore than he already has. When he finally finds his voice, he says, “I’d like to get dressed.”

“Wha—” Louis looks around the room, and says, “Okay. Yeah, um… We can talk af—”

“And then I’d like to go home.”

“Home?”

“I’ll reimburse you for the house rental,” Harry says, ignoring Louis’ shocked expression. “And I’ll take a taxi.”

“Harry, come on—”

“What, Louis?” Bending down, holding the blanket around him with one hand, Harry picks up his clothes from the floor. The baby kicks him in the ribs. He rubs his side and says, “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“I— Okay. I’ll take you home,” Louis says.

“You don’t have to do that. Stay here. You paid for—”

“I don’t want to stay here! I got this place for you— for us! To celebrate. And now— Is this it? Are you breaking up with me?”

Harry nods, biting his lip to keep the tears at bay. 

“Harry, baby—”

“Don’t.” Harry closes his eyes, trying not to feel the baby bouncing inside him. “I want to get dressed.”

“Oh…” Louis’ voice cracks on the single, quiet word. He gathers his clothes and a moment later the door clicks shut. 

It’s not easy holding back and stopping the wave of sadness from pulling him under, but he manages, focusing on putting his clothes back on. He takes his bag to the front of the house, looking for his phone so he can call a cab, but he finds Louis waiting for him, eyes wet and rimmed in red. 

“I’ll drive you home. I’m… There’s no sense in waiting for a cab when I’m here.”

“Okay,” Harry says, and though he doesn’t want to be confined inside a vehicle with Louis for an hour, he also doesn’t want to argue. He lets Louis carry his bag to the car.

It’s an excruciatingly awkward, entirely silent drive. The elevator ride is worse. Louis presses the button for Harry’s floor, hesitates, then presses the one for his own. When the doors slide open at his floor, Louis steps out into the hall, and says, “Goodnight, Harry.”

The doors close before Harry can make himself return the sentiment. 

Alone in his bedroom, Harry undresses, breath catching when he takes off his top and the string of pearls is still there around his neck. With shaking hands, he undoes the clasp and carefully lays the necklace on his nightstand. 

It’s the first time in months that he spends the night without Louis and he hardly sleeps at all. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hellooooooooo :)

When Harry found out about Richard’s affairs, the first thing he did was get drunk on red wine. The second thing he did was find a divorce lawyer. Breaking up with Louis, while unexpected as far as how and when, shouldn’t come as such a shock, since he never thought the relationship would last. And yet, Harry finds it nearly impossible to get out of bed the following day. 

He spends all of Sunday waiting for Louis to show up at his door, but he never does. And no one else does either. None of his kids call, and neither does Gemma. Around dinner time, he realizes that they all think he’s at the beach with Louis. 

It’s not that Harry actually wants Louis to come over. He stands by his decision and his reasoning. His broken heart will have time to heal before the baby comes. After would’ve been impossibly painful. 

Of course, it’s painful now. And he misses Louis. The last time he spent the night without him was Thanksgiving and he was miserable for a full twenty-four hours, but now he knows that Louis won’t appear to scent him and calm him or hold him and tell him that everything will be alright. 

After another horrible night of sleep that hardly counts as rest, Harry goes to work on Monday morning. Niall, who is always nosy and more concerned about Harry than he should be, asks about Harry’s birthday. 

“Nice birthday weekend with your Alpha?” Niall asks with a wink. 

Harry freezes, hardly through the door. He sighs and says, “I’d rather not talk about it, Niall.”

“Really? I thought you—”

“Niall!” Harry snaps. 

“Alright. Sorry,” Niall says, still smiling. “Just I know Louis rented—”

“Louis and I are no longer dating,” Harry states simply, hoping that Niall won’t ask any questions. 

Gasping quietly, Niall holds his arms out. “Hug?”

Harry nods, biting his lower lip, and letting Niall hold him. “Please don’t say anything to Jane. I think I should be the one to tell—” Harry sniffles and closes his eyes. “To tell the girls.”

“Okay, H,” Niall says, petting Harry's hair. “Anything I can do?”

Shaking his head, Harry backs away. “Thank you, but no. I’ll be fine.”

“Can I ask… What about the baby?” 

“I’ve spoken to my lawyer. Hopefully, Louis won’t fight me over joint custody. I think it’s fair,” Harry says, and he does believe that. Louis will be an excellent father and he doesn’t want to take that away from him. 

Niall nods, pulling Harry into another hug. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t mind having a little one around the office. Could bring her here. Set up a little playpen in the corner.”

Closing his eyes tight, Harry nods, and whispers, “Thank you.”

Years of being married to Richard left Harry with the ability to ignore reality and bury himself in work in order to get through his days. He never thought of that as something to be grateful for, but he is. Because after Monday comes Tuesday, and Tuesday morning he has a doctor’s appointment. His first visit alone since he went in September to confirm his pregnancy. 

▓▓▓

When Tuesday morning comes, Harry finds Louis waiting for him in the parking lot of his doctor’s office. It’s such a surprise that Harry trips over the edge of the sidewalk when he sees him, righting himself quickly and taking a steadying breath.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” Louis asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing up at Harry before looking back at the ground. 

“Yes,” Harry says, wishing he didn’t sound so relieved. 

He tries to ignore the gentle touch of Louis’ hand at the small of his back as he walks through the door. It’s harder to ignore when Louis jerks his hand away. He signs in at the desk, and they sit side by side in silence, waiting for the nurse to call Harry’s name. 

Outside the bathroom, where Harry has to give his usual urine sample, they do an odd dance. Louis holds out his hand to take Harry’s coat and Harry stares at him, then he drops his hand just as Harry tries to pass him the coat. The nurse reminds them of the hook on the back of the door and they both nod. In the bathroom, Harry focuses on his breathing, holding a cool, damp paper towel to his cheeks and the back of his neck. 

“How are we feeling today, Harry?” Doctor Fitzpatrick asks as soon as she steps into the exam room. “Your BP is a little higher than usual, so I’d like to take it again before you leave.”

“Okay,” Harry says, keeping his eyes on the mobile hanging from the ceiling while he pushes down the stretchy panel of his trousers, baring his belly. 

While she measures him, and listens to the baby’s heartbeat, Harry keeps his arms at his sides on the exam table, missing the warmth and comfort of Louis’ hand in his. Doctor Fitzpatrick offers Harry a hand to help him sit up, and Louis stays in his seat. She slides the blood pressure cuff onto Harry’s arm, and Harry prays that it’s normal. He hasn’t been in the same room with Louis since Friday, and he hasn’t been taking the prescription pheromones either. 

Doctor Fitzpatrick hums, frowning. “Still within the normal range, but… Did you fill the pheromone supplement prescription?”

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. 

“Well, one way or the other, you need those Alpha pheromones.” She turns to Louis and says, “It’s important for Harry and the baby. Sometimes pregnancy can cause an Omega to turn their nose up at their Alpha’s scent. It’s perfectly normal. That’s why we offer supplements. Think of it as a temporary bump in the road that’ll be smoothed over as soon as the baby’s born, not a failure on your part.”

“I, um…” Louis clears his throat. “I didn’t realize—”

“It’s my fault, Doctor. Louis didn’t know I wasn’t taking the supplements.”

“Didn’t know you needed them,” Louis says. 

“Well, it hasn’t been an issue thus far, so it’s possible that his scent will continue to work. The problem could simply be that you aren’t cohabitating, so scenting Harry once or twice a day isn’t enough.” Doctor Fitzpatrick looks from Harry to Louis and says, “I know it’s an unusual thing to ask, but I’d like it if you’d scent Harry now, and then we can check his BP again.”

“I…” Louis starts, cheeks turning pink.

“I’ll leave you alone, of course.” She stands and opens the door. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry and Louis say simultaneously. 

Harry rushes out, “I should’ve told you. I should’ve filled the prescription.”

Louis nods quickly. “What do we do?”

“I can just… I can explain to her, if you don’t want to do it.”

“Harry, I don’t mind scenting you. I’ll do it. Just… You have to tell me if you want me to.”

“Yes,” Harry says quietly. “Please.”

“Okay.” Louis stands, and Harry scoots to the end of the exam table, swinging his legs around so he’s facing Louis. 

Closing his eyes, Harry waits for Louis’ scent to wash over him. He jumps when Louis touches his shoulder, body tense. The warmth emanating from Louis where he stands between Harry’s legs pulls him in, and as soon as he feels the tip of Louis’ nose against his neck, a small whine escapes him. He clenches his jaw, but a second later, Louis’ familiar scent fills his senses, and his entire body relaxes. Inhaling, he slumps forward, resting his forehead on Louis’ shoulder, acutely aware of where they’re touching and where they aren’t. 

“Excuse me,” Doctor Fitzpatrick says, and they pull away from each other. “Sorry. I knocked twice, but no one responded, so I—”

“Sorry,” Harry says, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. He holds his arm out, wanting the appointment over with. 

“Perfect,” Doctor Fitzpatrick says a few minutes later. “Either start taking the pheromone supplements, or have Louis scent you more often. And I’ll see you at your next appointment.”

The walk through the office is a blur, and Harry’s still in a daze, standing on the sidewalk by his car. 

Squinting into the sun, the crinkles beside Louis’ eyes are deeper, and Harry fights the urge to rub his thumb over them. Louis holds out his hand, a single key dangling from it, and says, “I want you to have a key to my place. In case you need anything or if, after the baby’s born, you want to come over, you know, if she’s with me while you’re at work or something. I don’t know. I just… I want you to have it.”

Harry takes the key, holding it tight in his hand. “Thank you. I… I appreciate you coming today.”

“I told you I’d be here.”

“I know, but that was… before.”

Louis shakes his head. “Nothing’s changed for me, Harry. I mean, except, you know.”

“Oh, um… Okay. I… I need to go,” Harry says, and Louis backs away. Fumbling with his own keys, Harry manages to unlock his car and drive away without incident, though he almost pulls out onto the road in front of another car. 

Instead of going straight back to the office like he planned, Harry goes to the pharmacy and picks up his prescription, then drives home to shower off Louis’ scent. It makes it nearly impossible to concentrate, when all he can think of is Louis. Still, once he’s clean and smelling like himself, he misses Louis even more. 

Dressed again, Harry slips on his loafers, grabs his phone from his bedside table, pauses, then picks up the string of pearls. They’re cool at first, laying against his skin underneath his shirt, and he soon forgets he's wearing them. 

Jane’s at the office, helping Niall, and it’s the first time Harry’s seen or spoken to any of his daughters since the previous week. Of course, the first thing she asks about is his birthday.

Harry stops the conversation before it starts. “Louis and I aren’t together anymore. He’s still planning to be involved with the baby. He even came to the appointment I had this morning. But we’re not—”

“Wow,” Jane says, crossing the room in a hurry. She hugs him the way she did when he was pregnant with Charlotte, though she's much taller now, and has to bend down to rest her head on his belly. “I’m sorry, Dad. Are you okay? I can’t believe—”

“I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s okay. It’s a bit strange anyway, discussing my personal life with you,” Harry says, and when Jane nods, he adds, “Could you tell your sisters?”

“Yes, of course.” Jane turns her head and speaks directly to the baby, “You’re going to be so loved.”

Harry makes it through the rest of the day. Though, not happily. When he leaves work, he’s tired and hungry and grumpy, regretting his earlier decision to walk to the office. He stops at the store, planning to pick up a few things to make the evening easier. Chocolate. Cheese. Bread. Ice cream. Four things he can carry home in one bag. 

The baby has been incredibly active all day. As soon as Louis scented him that morning, she calmed down, but after his shower, she started back up again. He walks through the store, holding his belly, hoping that the movement will rock her to sleep, but the more he walks, the more she kicks, until his feet hurt and his ankles are swollen, and he wishes he’d just gone home.

“Shit!” Harry stops short, almost bumping the wheel of his cart into Louis’ ankle. 

Louis frowns, nose wrinkling. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping, clearly,” Harry says, already annoyed. 

“No, I mean—” Louis huffs, propping his hands on his hips. “I meant, it’s late. You’re usually home by now.”

“Oh, um…” Harry glances down at his still empty cart. He sighs. “I don’t know. I just wanted to grab a few things, but she’s being really active, so I was trying to walk her to sleep, and I… I don’t know.”

Biting his lip, Louis looks from Harry to his grocery cart. “Look, we need— I need to talk to you anyway, so why don’t you tell me what you want, and go ahead home. I’ll get the groceries.”

“Louis, I—”

“Harry, I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but you smell… odd. And it’s bothering my Alpha to—”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll go,” Harry says, dreading the walk home. 

“Harry, wait.” Louis stops him with a hand on his arm, pulling it away immediately. He reaches into his pocket, and gives Harry his keys. “My car’s out front.”

“Oh, um…” Harry stands there, staring at the keys, and wondering how Louis knew.

“You walked, right?” Louis asks, and when Harry nods, he says, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

After Harry gives Louis his short list, he leaves, stopping at the restroom on the way. He waits in the passenger seat of Louis’ car until he comes out of the store a few minutes later. Despite saying he wanted to talk, Louis doesn’t say anything on the short drive home or in the elevator ride up to Harry’s floor. 

While he’s putting Harry’s ice cream in the freezer, Louis says, “Go ahead and change clothes, if you want. I need a minute to— to think.”

Of course, Harry trips taking off his pants, but falls on his bum on his bed, making a mental note to only put on and take off pants while sitting for the rest of his life. Embarrassingly, he’s spent the past few days at home in nothing but his underwear, not wanting to wear his satin gown or pajamas because they remind him of Louis. But with Louis there, he needs to be fully clothed. 

It takes him some time to get the pants tied properly, but luckily the shirt slips over his head without needing to be unbuttoned. He finds his slippers and hopes that his swollen ankles aren’t noticeable. 

“Louis?” Harry peeks into the kitchen, but it’s empty. He finds Louis waiting for him on the couch. “Thank you for bringing me home. And for the groceries. I… I’ll reimburse you. I still owe you for the house and—”

“Harry, stop,” Louis says, holding up his hand. “I don’t want your money. I… Please, sit.”

“Okay,” Harry says, easing himself down and holding onto the arm of the couch to steady himself. “But I want to pay you back for—”

“No. Just… No. Listen to me for a minute,” Louis says, tucking his feet underneath his bum and facing Harry on the couch. “I know you don’t want to be with me, like, in a relationship with me as your Alpha. But we’re still… We’re in this together as parents. I want to be able to talk to you and… and work together to do what we need to do for the baby.”

Harry closes his eyes, breathing deeply and stopping himself from trying to explain that it isn’t that he doesn’t want Louis as his Alpha. Even in his head, it’s complicated.

“Part of working together is getting through the rest of this pregnancy and keeping you as healthy and, um, happy as possible. And I…” Louis stretches his legs out, patting his lap. “Harry, just give me your feet, for Christ’s sake.”

“What?” Harry stills, noticing that he’s been wiggling his feet inside his slippers.

“I know they hurt. I know your ankles are swollen. I could tell by the way you were walking in the store,” Louis says, patting his lap again. “Can you let me do this?”

“Why?”

Louis tries to disguise his annoyance, but Harry can smell it, and it has him on edge. “You’re the one who said I have an ‘instinctive attachment’, so like, I thought I could help you, and by extension help myself, I guess. Do… Do some of the things I’ve been doing, like the shopping, and cooking, and rubbing your feet. Or your back. I’m just… I’m trying. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Harry says, looking down at his swollen ankles. 

“Yeah. Never mind. It’s probably stupid.” Louis sighs, resting his hands on his knees, and Harry can tell he’s trying to make himself get up and leave. 

“It’s not. It’s not stupid,” Harry says. “And you’re right. My feet are killing me.”

“You’ll let me?” Louis asks, glancing over at Harry, and immediately looking away again. “Let me help?”

With a quick nod, Harry bites his lip, blinking away tears. “Yeah. That’ll be okay, I think.”

Reaching down, Louis circles his fingers around Harry’s ankle, pressing his thumb into the spot where it hurts the most. “Alright. Come on.”

Harry lies down on the couch with his feet in Louis’ lap, but he has to keep his eyes closed the entire time that Louis massages his feet to stop himself from bursting into tears. He falls asleep to Louis’ gentle strokes around the bones of his ankles, and when he wakes up, it’s to Louis’ quiet voice telling him that dinner is ready. Nothing fancy, of course. But a turkey sandwich he didn’t make is much more delicious than one he’d have to stand in the kitchen and make for himself. And Louis takes care of the clean up. 

“I’m gonna go,” Louis says, after Harry watches him wipe down the kitchen counters for the third time. “See you tomorrow?”

“Okay.” 

“Do you want me to scent you, before I go?” 

Harry hesitates, rubbing his belly where the baby kicks, and says, “Yes. She seems to prefer that over the supplements.”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. I didn’t know you’d taken them.”

“Yeah, um… I did. She’s not a fan,” Harry says, and Louis laughs. 

“Here or…” Louis looks around the kitchen.

“Here’s fine.” Adjusting his pajama top unnecessarily, Harry’s fingertips brush against the necklace he forgot he was wearing, and he freezes. 

“I noticed you were wearing it,” Louis says, eyes glued to Harry’s neck. “I’m happy you like it.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers.

“Welcome,” Louis says, meeting Harry’s eyes and tilting his head to the side. It takes Harry a second to tilt his own head, closing his eyes when Louis moves in close. He rests his hand on Harry’s hip and the touch is familiar and warm, but Harry hardly has time to notice before he’s surrounded by Louis’ scent blending with his own. Any tension remaining evaporates, and the baby relaxes as well, giving Harry a gentle jab before settling down. After a few minutes, Louis takes a step back. “Good?”

“Mmhmm.” Blinking slowly, Harry lifts his hand, cupping the side of his neck. 

“Good.” Louis sucks his lower lip between his teeth. He backs out of the kitchen and Harry follows him to the door. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“’Night,” Harry says, watching him walk away. He makes himself close the door before Louis gets to the elevator. 

It’s so similar to the way things were before that Harry finds himself struggling more and more at night when Louis leaves. He comes over after work, bringing groceries some nights. He cooks dinner, rubs Harry’s feet, and even massages his back, though Harry keeps his clothes on. And when all of that is done, Louis scents him. 

Once a day is enough to get him through and, if he takes the pheromone supplements in the morning, he’s fine. Every night though, when Louis leaves, Harry has to stop himself from asking him to stay, and the desire for his presence doesn’t lessen as the days pass. 


	24. Chapter 24

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dad,” Char says, carrying a bakery box into his apartment. “Missed you. Hope you’re feeling better.”

“I am. I’m much better,” Harry says, ashamed of himself for lying to his girls, but he hasn’t felt up to a birthday dinner out with them. It was just a little lie implying that he might’ve been sick to his stomach, but that his doctor said he’d be fine with a little rest. 

“Good.” Lifting up on her toes, Char kisses his cheek, and goes straight to the kitchen. “Excited for the party?”

“It’s not really a party. It’s a baby shower,” Harry says dismissively. 

Char scoffs. “Well, we have cookies and cake and champagne—not for you, obviously—and presents and games… Sounds like a party.”

“Hmm… What kind of games?”

“Not telling. It’s all part of the surprise.” Char sets the box on the kitchen counter and says, “Go on and finish getting ready. Can’t be late for your own party.”

His outfit for the shower is one that he bought just that week, and which he normally wouldn’t wear at all. But he was feeling rather miserable when he went shopping, and the salesman was lovely and kind and his compliments sounded sincere, so Harry walked out with an outfit that he’s now not sure is appropriate for a baby shower. 

The high waisted black pants are perfect, covering his pregnant belly completely, but without the standard stretchy panel, and they almost appear tailored to fit him with their wide cuffs. The top is sheer with lace at the neck that drapes over his chest, and in the dressing room, his nipples were more like shadows under the fabric, but now he can see them clearly if he turns a certain way. Hopefully, since he’ll be sitting most of the time at the shower, no one will notice. 

That hope doesn’t keep him from blushing before he even leaves his bedroom. 

“Whoa,” Char says as soon as she sees him, dragging out the word. “And you said it’s not a party.”

“Hush,” Harry says, sitting on the couch to put on his shoes. He’s stayed off his feet all day so that his feet and ankles won’t swell, but Char still has to help him into the patent leather boots. “Seriously, Char. Do I look alright?”

“Might be too much for Nana, but other than that, you look great.”

“You think she’ll be offended?” Harry asks, covering his chest with his hands.

“Think she’ll forget about it five minutes after she sees it, so don’t worry.” Charlotte laughs and says, “You look very nice, Dad. I love the pearls. And I feel a little underdressed, not gonna lie.”

“You look beautiful!” Harry gestures for her to stand up and twirl, the wide legs of her deep purple trousers spinning almost like a skirt. Her top is pale green with pinstripes, and he says, “The blouse is lovely.”

“Hope so. It’s yours,” Char says, and he rolls his eyes.

“Thought it looked familiar.” Harry holds his hands out, Charlotte helps him off the couch, and they’re on their way. 

The shower is at Gemma’s house; she insisted when she found out the girls were looking into renting a space, and Harry’s glad. He loves his sister’s place. It’s cozy, despite being a fairly large home, and he’s comfortable there. He knows where all of the bathrooms are and, if he wants to, he can lay down in one of the bedrooms. 

“Hey, Dad,” Char says as she helps Harry out of the car. “Proud of you for working to stay friends with Louis. I was worried about the shower, ’cause we invited his family, and I didn’t want to have to uninvite them. But mostly… I know it’s an understatement, saying you’ve had a rough couple of years, but you’ve handled everything with grace and… ugh. Not gonna cry. I love you.”

“Jesus, Charlotte,” Harry says, uselessly dabbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. “I love you too. And I could argue with you about the grace thing, but I won’t. No more of that, okay? This is going to be weird enough without you making me cry.”

“You okay?”

“No. I want to get back in the car and go home, but,” Harry says, clearing his throat and straightening his spine. “I won’t. Might keep my coat on though. What was I thinking, wearing this shirt?”

Char laughs, balancing the bakery box in one hand and looping her other arm through Harry’s. She’s still giggling as she leads him up the walk to the front door. 

Their smiles disappear as soon as the door opens and Gemma snatches the box out of Charlotte’s hands, ushering them inside the entryway. Instead of going towards the living room, she points in the opposite direction, towards her bedroom, and Harry’s heart begins to race, worried something has happened with his mom. 

“What?” Harry asks, looking back over his shoulder at Gemma’s frowning face. “What is it?”

“Wait a second,” she says, shutting the bedroom door as soon as they’re inside. Harry stops at the sight of Jane, Elizabeth, Zoe sitting on the bed, while Allison paces the room with a fussing Felix on her shoulder. 

“What’s going on?” Char asks, clapping her hands and reaching for Felix. “Hi, baby Felix. Felix the Cat. Felix-bo-beelix, me-my-mo-melix!”

“Charlotte, shut up,” Elizabeth snaps. 

“Elizabeth!” Harry glares at his oldest daughter, but she just shakes her head and scowls at him. So he scowls back and tosses his coat on the bed behind her.

“Harry, not now,” Gemma says, setting the bakery box on her dresser, and crossing her arms over her chest. She looks so much like their mother. “You broke up with Louis.”

“Yes?” Harry looks around the room as if waiting for someone else to state an obvious fact.

“You made it sound like he broke up with you!” Jane accuses, shaking a finger at him. 

“Dad?” Charlotte mimics Gemma’s posture, furrowing her brow the same way he does.

“I… I didn’t mean to give any of you that impression,” Harry says, making sure to meet each of the girls’ eyes in turn. “I’m sorry for any confusion.”

“Any confusion?” Zoe scoffs, and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. She shakes her head and says, “I was so rude to him. Oh my God. I have to apologize.”

“What?” Harry blinks, taken aback. “Why were you rude to him?”

Gritting her teeth, she says, “Because you’re eight months pregnant with his child and I thought he broke up with you. I told him he had shit for brains and that I hoped he caught his knot in his zipper.”

“Zoe!” Harry covers his mouth with his hand, eyes wide. 

“Be glad she took him aside and didn’t tell him in front of his mother,” Gemma says. She takes a deep breath, exhaling through her nose. “Harry, you don’t owe anyone an explanation, but you definitely owe us the truth. Saying ‘Louis and I broke up’ combined with the way you’ve been acting… Of course we thought he ended things. I was so confused as to why you still wanted his friends and family at the shower. And why he’d want to be here. Jesus. What a mess.”

“Well, we’re staying friends. We’re going to raise the baby together. And we’re trying to—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gemma says, cutting him off and glowering at him. “I don’t have time to get into this. But, Zoe, pull Louis aside and apologize. I know you already said sorry, but  _ really  _ apologize. And the rest of you, smiles on! Time for the party!”

Before Harry can say anything, Gemma opens the door and leads them out of the room. Charlotte lingers, waiting for Harry. “I’m super pissed. I made him pay me seventy-five dollars for that cake.”

“Charlotte!”

“Ehh… I spent it on the baby,” she says with a shrug, as they walk into the living room full of people. “You guys’ll work it out, I think.”

Charlotte steers him through the room with her hand on his elbow, to the small loveseat near the fireplace, and leaves him to fetch him a drink. She brings him a glass of ginger ale, a small plate of fruit and cheese, and Louis. 

“Hey,” Louis says softly, sitting down beside Harry, biting his lip. “Char said I have to sit here?”

“Did she?” Harry asks, and Louis nods.

“Said I’ll need to help open gifts, so… Is it okay?” Louis asks, cheeks flushing pink as he looks Harry up and down. “Sorry. Don’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay. I know I look a little odd.” Harry feels his own face heating, and fans himself with his hand. “And you can sit here. I don’t mind.”

“You look lovely,” Louis whispers. “Not odd.”

“Thank you. And thanks for, um… for holding off on telling your family about, you know.”

Louis nods as his mom approaches them, and Harry takes a deep breath. One by one the party guests come by to say hello or congratulations or best wishes or some combination of those things. It’s the exact opposite of the way Harry usually behaves at any sort of social function. Normally, he’s the one greeting guests, refilling drinks, cleaning as he goes. 

The baby shower is more fun than Harry imagined it would be. His girls have baby games and pregnancy games and trivia games and weird baby food and diaper games, and Harry stays in his seat, watching everyone else play. Louis is much faster at changing a doll’s diaper than he should be, beating Zoe and Allison, though he loses to his mother, who laughs and tells him they’ll have a rematch in a few months. 

When Louis joins him on the loveseat again, he says, “You’re wearing the pearls.”

“They don’t really go with this outfit,” Harry explains, tucking the necklace inside his top. They remind him of Louis, of course. That’s why he wears them. 

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Louis asks, eyes still on the pearls through the sheer fabric of Harry’s shirt. “As long as you like them.”

“I suppose,” Harry says, grimacing as Jane hands him a heavy package to open. Thankfully, Louis takes it and sets it on the floor. 

They open the gifts one by one, thanking everyone, while Elizabeth makes a list for him so he can write proper thank you notes later. The highlight of the evening is when Harry opens the espresso machine, which he really did not expect to receive. It’s such a surprise that he bursts into tears, and Louis rushes off to find some tissues. 

Louis stays by his side, refilling his plate when he’s hungry, and his glass when he’s thirsty, helping him up when he needs to use the restroom, and even giving Gemma a hand with their mom when it’s time for her to go back to the assisted living facility. The entire night is a mix of highs and lows that come one after the other, leaving Harry emotionally exhausted. And he feels awful for Louis, having to pretend they’re still together. 

“Do you want me to come by later, you know, to scent you before you go to bed?” Louis asks as soon as they’re left alone for a moment. 

“Can you do it now?” Harry asks, stifling a yawn, and wincing at a twinge in his lower back. “We can go to one of the bedrooms.”

“Sure. Yeah,” Louis says, standing and offering Harry help up. “Are you feeling okay? Other than your back, I mean. Your scent is pretty normal. Is the baby—”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah. I’m fine,” Harry says, marveling at Louis’ ability to detect his slightest discomfort. Arching his back a little to stretch it, Harry presses his thumbs into the sore spots on his hips. “I just don’t know when Charlotte will be ready to leave and I rode with her.”

“I can take you,” Louis offers. “If you want.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Harry, it’s fine. We’re going to the same building. And Zayn and Liam drove their car because I didn’t know if I’d need to carry some of the gifts back or what, so…”

“Okay. Yes, then. Please,” Harry says, smoothing his hand over his stomach when the baby kicks. 

It takes a little while for all of the gifts to be loaded into Louis’ car, and when they leave, it’s to smiles and waves from Louis’ family, who still don’t know about the breakup, and confused looks from everyone who does. Harry falls asleep before they hit the highway, and wakes up with the desperate need to pee, the second Louis parks the car. 

“I didn’t realize you were so tired,” Louis says, when he brings up the last load of baby shower presents and finds Harry asleep on the couch. 

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” Harry admits, struggling to get off the couch while Louis’ hands are full of gift bags. 

Setting the bags down, Louis says, “If you’re able to sleep in the car and on the couch, maybe you’ll be able to sleep in your bed.” 

“Hope so,” Harry says, heading for the kitchen. It’s where they’ve done this every night for almost two weeks, both of them standing in the center of the room, barely touching, as Louis scents him to get him through the night. And just like those nights, Louis touches him just enough to steady him, one hand on his hip, the other on his shoulder, while their scents mix and Harry inhales as much of him as he can. 

Harry walks him to the door, they say their goodbyes, and a few minutes later, Harry’s crying in his bedroom, struggling to undo the buttons on his shirt with shaky hands. Eventually he gets his top off, and his high-waisted pants, and after he brushes his teeth and pees for the third time since he’s been home, he crawls into bed. 

The baby wakes him up at two in the morning, kicking his bladder like it’s a soccer ball, and when he waddles back into the bedroom, he can’t get back to sleep. This far along in his pregnancy, he has irregular Braxton Hicks contractions every afternoon, and sometimes at other times during the day, if he’s particularly active or stressed. All he has to do is wait them out, lie on his side and they’ll pass. They always do. 

But when they finally do, it’s three o’clock, and he still can’t sleep. He gets up and drinks some water and pees again, but nothing helps. Since he can’t go for a walk outside, he paces around his apartment for a while, but all that does is make his feet hurt. It’s after four when he can’t take it any longer, and finds himself standing outside of Louis’ apartment, wearing nothing but underwear, a robe and slippers, using his key for the first time. 

He leaves his slippers just inside the door and tiptoes through the apartment to Louis’ room with his phone flashlight, pausing with his hand inches from the doorknob. Knowing that it’s his only chance to sleep at all, Harry forces himself to open the door, freezing when he sees the changes in Louis’ room. 

It’s hard to tell in the dark, but his phone provides enough light to see that Louis has set up a portable crib in one corner, along with a small dresser stacked with diapers. Hanging above that is a little pink mobile with bees and flowers and butterflies dangling from it. The sight is enough to tip him over the edge. His breath catches in his throat and he chokes on a sob, holding his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.

“Harry?” Louis’ sleep-rough voice makes him jump.

“I— I’m sorry,” Harry says, tears rolling down his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I couldn’t sleep and I—”

“Shh…” Louis is at his side almost instantly, taking him in his arms, stroking his messy hair, and rubbing circles over the tight muscles in his lower back. The attention only makes him cry harder. “Shh… You’re okay. It’s okay. Everything’s okay, baby. What can I do?”

Sniffling, Harry hiccups, and then the baby hiccups. “Can I… Can I sleep here? With you? Just for tonight! I’m sorry, I—”

“Of course. Of course you can sleep here.” Louis takes his hand and guides him to the bed. “Here. Let me help you with your robe.”

Harry stills. “I don’t… I’m not dressed. I wasn’t thinking—”

“Harry, baby, shh… I’ve got something you can wear. Or you can just sleep in nothing. It’s okay. I can go to the couch.”

“No, don’t. Don’t go,” Harry says, untying his robe and slipping it off his shoulders. He lets it fall, but Louis catches it and hangs it up, while Harry crawls under the sheets. 

In Louis’ bedroom, he’s already surrounded by his scent, and his body relaxes the second he lays down. Lids heavy, Harry fights to stay awake until Louis climbs into the bed beside him, but sleep pulls him under too soon. 

▓▓▓

The next morning, Harry wakes up late, feeling well-rested and guilty. He’s alone, so he calls Niall and tells him he’s decided to go on leave, and will stop by the office periodically to tie up any loose ends before the baby comes. Louis brings him breakfast in bed, which he makes clear is not a romantic gesture, but because he was concerned and thought that Harry wasn’t well. 

“I know you said you’re fine, but let me walk you home,” Louis says, setting Harry’s slippers on the floor beside his chair so he can step into them.

“Okay.” 

One night with Louis, and he’s almost willing to give him anything he asks. 

It’s a short ride in the elevator to Harry’s floor, and Louis insists on going all the way to the door with him, but he doesn’t come inside. 

“I thought about it while you were sleeping,” Louis says, scratching his thumb over the scruff along his jawline. “And it’s up to you, obviously, but I— I can stay, like, nights with you. If you want. I need to be sure you’re okay, and the baby’s okay, and thinking about you being up half the night has me really anxious.”

“Louis, I—”

“I promise I won’t try anything,” Louis hurries to say. 

“I’m not worried about that. I… Nothing has changed,” Harry says, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Louis’ sad expression. 

“Nothing’s changed for me either, Harry. I still love you.” Louis huffs a quiet laugh. “I mean, this sucks for me. But it’s already breaking my heart every night to leave you, so this isn’t much different.”

The prospect of sleeping soundly, bathed in Louis’ scent, should make the decision easy, and Harry finds himself agreeing to think it over. 

He lasts two days before he gives in. 


	25. Chapter 25

Before the baby comes, Harry has to spend one last day in the office. In the six months that Jane’s spent working for him, she’s been rather quiet about where she stands with her decision about law school, at least with him, which is fine. Harry doesn’t want to pressure her either way, even accidentally.

“Dad, if you have time, I want to talk to you,” Jane says, peeking into his office.

Pushing himself up out of his chair, Harry says, “Always have time for you.” 

He gestures to the sofa, but before he can sit, Jane says, “Niall wants to talk to you too.”

“Okay?” Harry looks towards the open door of his office, and Niall follows Jane inside, closing the door.

Once they’re all sitting, with Harry on one end of the sofa, turned slightly to face Jane and Niall, she says, “I’m going to start law school in the fall.”

“Oh, that’s great, Janie!” 

Niall holds up one hand. “The problem is, I want to go back to school as well.”

“How is that a problem?” Harry asks.

Jane and Niall share a knowing look, and Harry narrows his eyes. He doesn’t like being out of the loop, and he definitely is. Niall finally answers, “If we’re in school, we won’t be here, H.”

“Oh, well, of course, but—”

“That’s not all,” Jane says, sitting up a little straighter. “Niall and I have discussed it, and we like working together.”

“So, we want to know,” Niall continues, picking up where Jane left off, “what your long term plans are.”

“Long term?” Harry huffs a quiet laugh. His mind has been so preoccupied with the baby and Louis and his personal life, that his law practice has taken a backseat. “I… I don’t know. I want to be able to spend as much time as I can with the baby, but I can’t just close up shop.”

“Why not, though?” Jane asks, lacing her fingers together and leaning towards Harry. 

Harry sighs quietly. “You know I stopped working and dropped out of college when Elizabeth came along. And I didn’t want to.”

“Dad, I don’t want to state the obvious, but you’ve worked really hard to get to a place where you can do what you want.”

Nodding, Niall adds, “Have you thought about it like that? What you want?”

“What I want?” Harry shakes his head, and says, “I… I guess not.”

“In an ideal world,” Jane starts, and Harry laughs. It’s how he’s always asked his girls to make major life decisions: think about the ideal situation and work backwards. “What would your life look like?”

Harry groans miserably. After a moment, he says, “I suppose I’d stop working as much. Stay home with the baby as often as possible. Maybe pick up a hobby? I’ve always wanted to learn to draw, so I could sign up for art classes at the community center.”

Knowing what she’ll say next, Harry smiles, and Jane asks, “What’s stopping you?”

“Can I ask a question?” Harry sucks his lower lip between his teeth, waiting for them both to nod their agreement. “What are you two planning to do after law school?”

Niall glances at Jane, then says, “We want to know what you want. Because our plans depend on that. But we’re both interested in family law. Specifically, we’d like to help Omegas.”

“Really?” Harry asks, though he shouldn’t be surprised. It was his choice, too, but Richard convinced him that it wouldn’t be a good idea. 

“Yeah, Dad,” Jane says, reaching over to pat his knee. “We both kind of feel drawn to it, you know? It feels like a good fit. And we’d like to practice law with you. Three Omegas, fighting the good fight, and what have you.”

Niall laughs. “It sounds a lot more noble when you put it like that, Jane.”

“Okay, then…” Harry takes a deep breath, and the baby kicks him in the ribs. He puffs out his cheeks, exhaling, then says, “I guess I’m living in an ideal world, then.”

“Jane, can I… I’d like to speak to your dad alone, if that’s okay?” Niall tips his head to the side, and Jane nods, standing and leaving the office, closing the door behind her. 

“Is everything alright, Niall?” Harry asks, rubbing circles over his round belly, and wishing his uterus would relax so he could concentrate. “Are you and Shawn going to be okay while you’re in school?

“We’ll be fine, H.” Niall looks him in the eye and says, “Jane told me that you were the one who broke things off with Louis.”

Harry rubs between his eyebrows and nods. “I did.”

“You are—and don’t take this the wrong way,” Niall says, and Harry frowns at him, fully prepared to take whatever he says the wrong way. “You are one of the most obstinate people I’ve ever known.”

“That is… possibly true.”

“I’m glad you agree.” Smiling, Niall turns to face Harry, propping his elbow on the back of the couch. “I feel like I’ve learned a lot, working for you, but I was headstrong before I met you.”

“Also true,” Harry says with a little laugh.

“I feel like I can be pretty candid with you, H.”

“Okay…” Sitting up a little taller, Harry nods, and says, “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Niall says, rubbing his hands together. “Louis could out-stubborn you any day.”

Harry gasps, affronted. 

“H, I’ve known you for a long, long time. I’ve known you at some of your lowest points, and I’ve never seen you as happy as you were when you were with Louis.”

“Niall, that’s not—”

“You push people away, Harry! You’ve tried it with me. You’ve even tried it with your kids,” Niall says, eyebrows raised as if expecting Harry to challenge him. 

“I have not,” Harry says.

“You have,” Niall states firmly. “You broke up with Louis—who  _ loves you— _ and then you hid away from your kids, who only wanted to support you. You lock yourself away from the people who care about you, Harry.”

“I… I don’t mean to. I don’t want to burden you with my problems, Niall. And the girls. They… They don’t need to be worried about their dad’s personal life.”

“Do you not get that it doesn’t matter whether you want us to or not? We still care. We’re still concerned. We still love you,” Niall says, standing and brushing the wrinkles from his shirt. “You’re stuck with us. We’re not going anywhere. And I think that’s true for Louis too.”

Though he doesn’t feel like he’s  _ stuck  _ with Louis, it feels like Louis chooses to be there, no matter how many opportunities Harry gives him to leave. Closing his eyes, Harry nods, and says, “I appreciate your honesty, Niall. But I… I don’t know what else to say.”

“It’s okay, H. We’re good.” Niall backs towards the door and says, “Jane and I are going to lunch. Want to come?”

“No. Thanks for offering, but I’m good.”

“Alright. Be back in an hour or so.”

“I’ll be here,” Harry calls out, just before Niall closes the door. 

▓▓▓

“I think we should have some ground rules,” Louis says as soon as he walks into Harry’s apartment, surprising Harry, who nods his agreement. He closes the door and follows Louis to the kitchen, where he watches Louis pull out the steaks he defrosted the previous day, as well as some green beans—the only green thing Harry can eat without getting horrible indigestion—which he sets in a colander in the sink to rinse. “We’ve already established a good routine at night, but I want to make sure you’re getting enough rest. So, I’ll let you sleep in, if you can, and I’ll make breakfast. But I— I’d rather be gone when you wake up.”

“Why?” Harry asks before he can stop himself. 

“Harry, in the mornings, your scent is— Let’s just say it’s harder to resist. When you’re asleep, it’s not an issue, but once you’re awake and moving around, I…” Louis looks like he wants to say more, but he shakes his head, clearing his throat, and goes back to starting their meal. “I’ll wear clothes. I mean, I’ll sleep in clothes. Pajamas. Sweatpants. Whatever.”

“Okay…”

“I just know you can’t really, and if you try, you wind up taking them off in your sleep, and if one of us is going to be naked, the other one probably shouldn’t be. That leads to my next, um, point, I guess.” Holding his hand up, he counts on his fingers. “So, pajamas for me, I’ll be gone when you get up, and no romantic or sexual touching. Like, no kissing, touching of, um, parts?”

Harry snorts. “Okay.”

“It’s not funny, Harry.” Louis sighs, rinsing the potatoes and scrubbing them aggressively. “I’m trying to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself?”

“Yes,” Louis says flatly. “I have to look out for myself. So I’m trying to figure out how to satisfy my ‘hormonal attachment’ or whatever, and yours too, without deepening my… my feelings.”

“Oh,” Harry says, wondering if Louis’ precautions will help protect both of their hearts. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah. So, if that’s okay?” Louis asks, as if Harry could possibly say no. 

“Sounds good!” Harry cringes and Louis laughs quietly. “Sorry. This is just a bit weird.”

“You’ve been saying that since day one,” Louis says. 

“Have I?”

“Yep. And it’s only going to get weirder.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Let’s see…” Louis says, slicing the potatoes. He keeps his eyes on the knife while he talks. “We’re having a baby, but we’re not together, and neither of us is dating anyone else, but I suppose in the future that’s something we’ll have to deal with, and I’m sure that’ll be fun.” He laughs quietly, not actually sounding amused, and finishes up the potatoes, setting them aside. 

The thought of Louis seeing someone else leads to the thought of him bonding someone else, and having children with them. It’s an awful thing to dwell on, which is why Harry typically avoids thinking about it at all. 

“You retained a lawyer because you think I’m going to try to get sole custody—even though I would  _ never _ do that—and it says a lot about what you think of me. That means I have to get a lawyer, even though I don’t want to.”

The oven beeps, and Louis tosses the green beans in a pan, putting them on the top rack to roast. He lets the oven door slam itself shut, and goes back to the potatoes.

“Oh! And my family has no clue we broke up, but I honestly don’t want to tell them because my mom works at the hospital where you’ll give birth, and that could be uncomfortable for all of us. Not that I’m comfortable lying to my mom, but it is what it is. Your family thought I’d done something horrible to you, when  _ you’re _ the one who broke up with  _ me,  _ and I still find myself wanting to apologize to you.” Louis seasons the steaks, tosses them into the hot pan, and turns around, resting his hip against the counter. “Also, we’re going to be raising our baby in two separate homes, and I’ll probably have to find a place farther away from here because I can’t afford a two bedroom in this area on my own, and I can’t have a baby  _ and _ two roommates, one of whom is a very light sleeper.” With the lid on the pan, Louis goes back to the potatoes, carefully putting them in the now boiling water. “The baby’s due in less than a month, but we don’t have a name for her or even a list of names we like because we stopped talking about it after we argued about a name  _ that I don’t even remember now,  _ but that you hated enough to put off the discussion indefinitely. None of that even touches on the fact that I’m in love with you and I don’t see that changing anytime soon, despite what you seem to think.”

Staring at him wide eyed, Harry finds he’s unable to speak. 

“Weird enough for you?”

Harry bites the inside of his cheek, but it doesn’t stop his lower lip from trembling, or his eyes from filling with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry croaks out. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m sorry.” Louis crosses the kitchen and cups Harry’s face in his hands, but Harry jerks away from him. “I’m in a shitty mood and I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry, baby. Harry, I mean.”

With a shake of his head, Harry takes another step back, bumping into the refrigerator. He tries to pull himself together enough to speak clearly. “The name was Marjorie.”

Louis stops, hands still outstretched towards Harry. He drops them to his sides, and says again, “I’m sorry.”

“Richard had an affair with a woman named Marjorie, and—”

“Jesus, Harry, why didn’t you say that before?”

Holding a hand up to stop Louis from coming closer, Harry says, “They’re married now. The affair started before we were bonded, and continued throughout our marriage. I was pregnant with Elizabeth when I first found out. He promised to break it off, and we stayed together. About two years ago, I was at a lunch meeting at a cafe I’d never been to before. I’d—” Harry stops and holds a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat and trying to slow it down. “I’d never been because Richard told me he went there once, and that the food and service were both terrible. I don’t know why I believed him. But I was there, meeting a client who suggested the place, and so was Richard. Having what I later found out was a twice a week date with Marjorie.”

“Baby, I—”

“Don’t,” Harry says, voice sharp. “I did retain a lawyer. Not because I think you’ll take her, but because Omega parental rights laws are murky at best. You don’t have to get one or pay one, if we hash out an agreement between ourselves, and put it in writing.”

“I— Okay, I didn’t know that,” Louis says, poking at their steaks with a fork. “Do you think I should flip them? I’m not good with steaks.”

“Yes, if you want yours medium rare.” Harry wipes his face with his sleeve, wishing pregnancy didn’t make him so teary. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Louis the steaks will be done long before the rest of the meal. 

“Thanks,” Louis whispers, flipping the steaks. 

“I don’t know what to say about your mom. I suppose you could tell her the truth, and I could ask Doctor Fitzpatrick about requesting different nurses. Or maybe I could go to a different hospital.” Shrugging noncommittally, Harry says, “As far as dating, I don’t think I’ll be dating anyone. So, there’s no need for you to worry. And for the rest… All I can say is I’m sorry.”

“Harry, no— Fuck.” Water sizzles on the stovetop, and Louis rushes to stop the potatoes from boiling over onto the burner. He turns down the heat and wipes up the mess, looking frazzled. “I’m sorry I said all that.”

“Why? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to tell my mom the truth, Harry. I don’t want it to  _ be _ the truth.”

“Well, it is.”

Sighing quietly, Louis says, “I know. I’m sorry for what I said. I’d rather wait until after the baby’s born to tell her anyway, ’cause it’ll be easier for me.” 

“Okay. Whatever you want,” Harry says, arms crossed, and looking down at his swollen ankles. 

“Harry, can you…” he beckons Harry closer. “I know we usually do it later, but I need…”

Reluctantly, Harry goes to him, standing a few inches away to wait for Louis’ hands on his hip and shoulder while he scents him. Louis tips his head, and Harry does the same, but instead of surrounding them in a cloud of his scent, Louis presses his nose to Harry’s neck and inhales. After a moment, Louis’ scent blends with it, and Harry sags against him. 

“I’m sorry for yelling,” Louis mutters, lips brushing against Harry’s mating spot.

“You didn’t yell,” Harry says, circling his arms around Louis’ waist to help keep himself upright.

“Close enough.” Sliding his palm down the outside of Harry’s arm to his elbow, Louis rubs his thumb back and forth under the sleeve of Harry’s t-shirt. “This is hard to navigate.”

“It is,” Harry says, sighing quietly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you about Marjorie.”

“It’s okay,” Louis whispers. 

They sway together, standing in the kitchen, as the baby moves and stretches, pushing against Harry’s belly button.

“She just kicked me in the stomach,” Louis says.

“Maybe. I think that was her head.”

“I miss talking to her.”

Harry’s heart aches, hating that he’s already forcing distance between Louis and their daughter. And he misses the early morning cuddles and whispered conversations that made him feel like he was a welcome eavesdropper. “You can still. She hears you, even when you’re not speaking through my belly button.”

Louis lightly squeezes Harry’s hip and takes a step away, going back to the stove. Harry goes to the living room. The emotional whiplash of their conversation has him feeling drained, and being on his feet started his Braxton Hicks contractions. He lays on his side, holding the curve of his stomach, overcome with guilt, while silent tears slip from his eyes. As hard as this is for him, when he tries to put himself in Louis’ place, it feels impossible. And yet, Louis is still there, every night, cooking for him, caring for him, loving him, despite how difficult Harry’s made things.

▓▓▓

With only a month left, Harry trades in his little convertible for a crossover SUV, something large enough for a car seat with space for a stroller in back. It’s nicer than the minivan he had when the girls were small. Of all people, Liam helps him install the car seat. Harry was unaware that he’s a volunteer firefighter and an EMT, or that firefighters are often trained on proper car seat installation. It makes him wonder what else he doesn’t know about Louis’ friends or Louis’ life before they met. Learning that Zayn is a chef is less surprising. 

Sleeping with Louis every night is at once heartbreaking and healing. Despite his age, he feels better going into his ninth month than he remembers feeling during the end of any of his other pregnancies, and he knows that’s all due to Louis. 

Since he isn’t on his feet as much, they don’t hurt or swell as badly as they did, and though Louis offers to rub them nightly, Harry declines. He doesn’t feel it’s proper to take advantage of Louis’ kindness anymore than he already is. 

His doctor’s appointment at thirty-six weeks goes well, with his blood pressure back to normal. And Louis meets him in the parking lot again, sitting beside the exam table, but not touching Harry at all until they’re on the way out the door. It’s a fleeting sensation, the warmth of Louis’ hand on his lower back, that disappears almost as soon as he feels it. 

Going into the final stretch, doctor’s appointments go from every two weeks to once a week, and other than lunches out a few times a week, Harry stays home. The more time he spends on his feet, the more Braxton Hicks contractions he has, and while they may not be actual labor contractions, they’re still uncomfortable to the point where they sometimes take his breath away. 

“Are you sure you’re not in labor?” Louis asks when Harry wakes up for the third time in the middle of the night. 

“No. They’re not regular.” Groaning, Harry rolls onto his back and to his other side, facing Louis. 

“You’re sure? I mean, you’re sleeping through some of them, right?” Louis asks, and Harry can just make out his frown in the dark. 

“You want to time them, you can,” Harry says, mouth stretching into a yawn. “But I want to go back to sleep.”

“How do I do that?” 

Harry reaches behind him for his phone on the bedside table, and opens the stopwatch before passing it to Louis. “Put your hand on my stomach.”

“Okay…” Louis gently rests his palm on Harry’s side, and Harry huffs a quiet laugh.

“Here,” he says, moving Louis’ hand to the curve of his belly where the tightness in his womb is more noticeable. “Feel how it’s almost hard?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the contraction. It’ll ease off and feel…” Harry closes his eyes. “Softer, I guess. You time the contraction, and the intervals between them.”

“Alright,” Louis says, squinting at the stopwatch on Harry’s phone. His uterus relaxes and in the light from the phone, Louis’ eyes go wide. “I felt that!”

Humming quietly, Harry drifts off to sleep. 

He wakes up a little while later to find Louis still timing them.

“How long have you been doing that?” Harry asks, struggling to roll over and push himself up to sit before he stands and waddles to the bathroom.

“Hour or so,” Louis says, frowning at the screen of Harry’s phone. “You’re right. They’re not regular at all.”

“Mmhmm…” Harry pees and then makes his way back to bed in the dark, laying on his side. With Louis close behind him, but not touching him, he falls asleep again. 

The next time he wakes up, he’s alone. 


	26. Chapter 26

“Thirty-seven weeks!” Doctor Fitzpatrick measures Harry’s stomach with her little tape measurer, and says, “Perfect.”

“Thanks,” Harry says softly, focusing on the mobile hanging from the ceiling. 

“That’s a bit of a milestone for you. Your oldest was born three weeks early, correct?”

“Yes. Elizabeth was early. Still is. She’s the type to be at least ten minutes early for everything,” Harry tells her, and she laughs. 

Doctor Fitzpatrick squirts the cool gel onto Harry’s stomach and smears it around with the wand of the heartbeat monitor. “Louis couldn’t make it today?”

Harry wonders if she misses Louis’ little gasp, the same sound he makes every time they listen to the baby’s heart, like Harry does. “Yeah, he, um…”

“That’s okay. We’re getting close,” she says, wiping his stomach clean. 

After helping Harry up, she leaves the exam room, and he straightens his clothes, checking his reflection in the long mirror on the back of the door. A couple of deep breaths, and he’s out of the office, on his way home. Since he’s feeling fairly good, physically at least, Harry stops at the grocery store to pick up a few things. There isn’t much he needs with how often Louis has been going shopping. 

Usually Louis comes over as soon as he finishes work for the day, which means that he’s gotten accustomed to eating dinner a little later in the evening. Tonight, though, since he’s alone and hasn’t heard from Louis all day, he starts early. Sipping his room temperature ginger ale, Harry shuffles around the kitchen, chopping vegetables, and keeping busy. Working stops him from thinking only of Louis’ absence, though it still hovers in the back of his mind. 

Homemade vegetable soup is precisely what Harry’s been craving, and while making it tires him out, he also works up an appetite. He’s scraping the last bit of broth from his bowl when the doorbell rings. 

Harry frowns, opening the door, and Louis bustles in, arms full of grocery bags. He goes straight for the kitchen, and Harry follows, confused.

“You made soup?” Louis asks with a small pout. “I was gonna make soup.”

“You were?”

“Yeah. Last night, you said you wanted vegetable soup,” Louis says, putting the unused vegetables into the refrigerator. “Why’d you make it? Just couldn't wait?” Grinning, he leans over the pot on the stove. Louis grabs a bowl from the cabinet and ladles some into it, spooning a bit into his mouth. “Harry?”

“You didn’t come to the appointment today.”

“What appointment?” Louis checks his phone, frowning at the screen. “I don’t have anything for today.”

“I had one this morning. At ten.” 

“Why didn’t you text me? Or call? I would’ve been there, if I’d known.”

“I thought…” Harry stops, not sure exactly what he thought. 

“You thought?”

Annoyed, Harry huffs, and says, “I thought, you know, you were done with all that.”

The small smile that’s been on Louis’ lips since he walked through the door, drops off his face. “Done with all what?”

By Louis’ tone, Harry can tell that he knows exactly what he meant, and he doesn’t want to say it out loud. He swallows hard, and clenches his jaw. When Harry doesn’t say anything, Louis closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and Harry can smell his anger from all the way across the room. 

“When have I ever given you reason to think I’d just ‘be done’?” Louis asks, voice slow, words careful, but Harry doesn’t answer. “From the start, I’ve been open and honest with you. About my feelings, about what I want, about you, the baby… You’re the one who— who doesn’t want a mate who’s younger than you. You’re the one who didn’t want to label our relationship— who didn’t even want to call it that, even though I have a fucking relationship with the mailman, for Christ’s sake! It’s just a word! I have a relationship with the guy who cuts my hair! But not you! It’s ‘this thing between us’ or whatever you want to call it. Except it’s a baby, Harry! We’re having a baby and guess what? I’m not going anywhere!” 

Wide-eyed, Harry watches him carefully set his soup bowl in the sink, and wash his hands. He dries them on a clean kitchen towel, and turns around.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice. And for cursing. I know the baby can hear me,” Louis says.

“How do you know?” Harry asks.

“That pregnancy app. It tells me—”

“No,” Harry interrupts. “How do you know that you’re not going anywhere?”

“I… I don’t understand,” Louis says, furrowing his brow, and Harry takes a step closer, wanting to smooth that little line away. “How do  _ you  _ know  _ you’re  _ not going anywhere?”

“Where would I go?”

“You can’t answer a question with a question, Harry.”

“You just did,” Harry retorts. 

“Then where would I go?” Louis asks, rolling his eyes. “My family is here. My friends are here. My job is here. I’m not leaving town.”

“I meant how do you know you won’t leave  _ me, _ Louis?”

Louis stills. “No. You meant how do  _ you  _ know I won’t leave you. And that’s on you, Harry. I’ve given you zero reason to— to think that you can’t trust me. None of this is about me. I’m tired of having the same conversation.” 

Turning on his heel, Louis leaves the kitchen, and Harry shouts after him, “How is that not leaving? We’re arguing, and you leave the room!”

“I’m going to pee!” Louis yells, stomping off down the hallway, and disappearing into the bathroom. 

“Oh,” Harry says to the empty room. He breaks off a piece of the crusty bread that he meant to eat with his soup earlier, dipping it directly into the pot. While he chews, he thinks about how many times he’s expected Louis to act a certain way only to have Louis behave in the opposite manner. As always, Louis is gentle with him, even when he’s angry. If only he could erase some of his own history, and rid himself of the weight of his past. It’s unfair to expect so much of Louis, when all he wants to do is love Harry, and be loved in return. 

When Louis returns a moment later, he says, “I’m sorry for stalking off, but I had a big bottle of Gatorade earlier and—”

“No, Lou. You’re right. And I know it’s me. I’m the one with the baggage and the issues and—”

“No, you don’t get it at all! Harry, listen to me. I have issues. I have baggage. Everyone does. But you… you’re letting your past dictate your future,” Louis says, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “I love you. And I know that you don’t love me, but—”

“Of course I love you! Jesus Christ, Louis! That’s what this is all about. I love you more than I thought I could love another person and it scares the shit out of me. If we mated and bonded and you left me? I think it would break me. And I can’t… I can’t do that. Not with a baby.”

Mouth agape, Louis stands there, staring at him, not speaking. 

“Did you—” Harry stops himself from asking Louis if he heard him, when it’s clear that he did. “Are you okay?”

Louis shakes his head, scrubbing his hand through his hair, messing it up. Eyes welling up with tears, Louis squeezes them shut, nostrils flaring, and Harry doesn't know how to react. The baby flips, kicking his ribs, and he holds his hand tight to his side to calm her down, but she just kicks him harder.

“Oof.” Harry pats the spot she kicked and says, “I have to go sit down.”

Right away, concern overpowers Louis’ scent, and he nods. “Go. I’m right behind you.” 

“Why can I smell you so strongly?” Harry asks, easing himself down onto the sofa. 

“Dunno. Maybe you’re still adjusting to being off the neutralizers,” Louis suggests, sitting on the opposite end. “Harry, I— I want to make sure we're on the same page here.”

Harry groans as his regular evening false labor contractions start. “I need to lie down.”

“Give me your feet,” Louis says, patting his lap.

“My feet are fine.”

Standing, Louis moves to the chair closest to the couch, and Harry stretches out on his left side, folding his arm under his head and stuffing a throw pillow between his bent knees. It’s such a struggle to get comfortable and he’s got three weeks to go.

After a moment, Louis says, “Harry, I… I’ve tried not to push you. Or get angry with you, really. It’s hard, because I think… I see you as this successful, put-together man who has so much experience in life and, just… in everything.” Harry huffs, but Louis keeps talking, “I know that’s true, but I also know that, like, your only relationship experience is with Richard, and I… I hate him for what he did to you.”

“Join the club,” Harry says, pushing back when the baby presses hard against his side.

“That’s not funny,” Louis snaps, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. “He hurt you. He hurt you over and over again for years and he’s still hurting you. He… He’s hurting me. He’s hurting our baby.”

“Louis…” Harry starts, wanting to disagree, though he knows Louis is right.

“Harry, do me a favor?”

“What?” 

“Just for a second, like, try to imagine a future for our baby. Tell me what it looks like.”

“Have you been talking to Niall?” Harry asks with a frown.

“No, why?”

“Jane?”

“No. Should I? Is something—”

“No. No… Just… You sound like… I had a similar conversation with them the other day.”

“About the baby?” Louis asks.

“About the future,” Harry says, thinking about his ideal world scenario, and wondering where Louis fits in it.

“Oh, well, no. I haven't been talking to them, but maybe I should.”

Shaking his head, Harry says, “I’m not going back to work full-time. I can afford to cut my hours, and I’d rather spend the time with the baby.”

“That’s great,” Louis whispers. “She’s a lucky baby already.”

“It’s what I want. I want to be with her as much as I can.”

“What about me?” Louis asks, quickly adding, “I mean, with the baby.”

“Oh, I, um…” Harry stops himself. What he wants for Louis is happiness, however he can get it. “I want you to be there. As often as you want to be there.” 

“Harry… Listen to yourself. You want me to have what I want?”

“Yes, of course.” 

“What I want is to be with you. To be bonded to you. To marry you,” Louis says. 

“You can’t… Louis, you know how I feel about—”

“I don’t, Harry. I don’t know how you feel about anything, except, apparently, you  _ do  _ love me. That’s why I need you to tell me what you want.”

“I just don’t think that what I want matters,” Harry says, pausing and pursing his lips, because he knows it should matter. He’s worked so hard to teach his children their worth as people, and they’d be ashamed to hear him talk about himself like that. Perhaps Gemma was right; he should find a therapist. “Wait. I… Okay. In an ideal world, I’d want… I’d want to be with you. To be bonded and married and live together, but—”

“No buts, Harry. There’s nothing stopping you from any of that.”

“Well, we’re not getting married.”

“I’m not finished,” Louis says, sitting back in his chair and crossing his ankle over his knee. “You think that all of this—all of my feelings for you—are going to go away.”

“Yes. Eventually. It’s… It’s one of my biggest fears, Louis. But that’s not all of it. I… I worry about my age, and before you interrupt me, it’s important to me. And it’s all part of the same issue. You’ve seen what I’ve been going through with my mom. And it’s terrible. What if I…” Harry trails off, closing his eyes. Thinking about it is hard enough. Dementia. Senility. Probably Alzheimer’s. He remembers his grandmother and how difficult the last few years of her life were for her and everyone who loved her. He doesn’t want to put Louis through any of that.

“Baby,” Louis says, voice soft, and Harry blinks open his eyes to find him kneeling on the floor in front of him. “I know we’re not married or like, even together, but ‘for better or worse’ aren’t just words to me. Nothing’s certain. I could be up in the rafters at the theater, changing one of the lights, and fall.”

Harry's stomach lurches at the prospect of losing Louis for good. “Don’t say that.”

“I could. I could fall down the stairs to my office and—”

“You’re not going to fall,” Harry insists, needing it to be true. “I’m the clumsy one.”

“My point is, Harry, that if something happened to you, I’d still love you. I’d still want take care of you. I’d still want to be with you. It’s not an optional thing for me. I’m struggling with it as it is, being with you in every way—”

“Not  _ every _ way,” Harry says.

Louis sits back on his heels and raises his eyebrows. “If you make this about sex, I—”

“It’s true. No romantic or sexual touching. That’s what you said.”

“Yeah, because I have to keep my distance to protect my heart, baby. Not because I don’t want to. Even though, I’m pretty sure you’re not going to be interested in sex for at least a few months. I don’t care. Do you get that?”

“Yes,” Harry whispers.

“I want to be with you because I love Harry, the person who cries during rom coms with me and eats vanilla ice cream and likes to have his own pizza, even though he never eats the whole thing. Do you get that?”

“Yes.”

Leaning in close, Louis rests his forehead against Harry’s. “I’m willing to wait for you to figure this out. I know it’s a lot and you’ve got so much on your plate with the pregnancy and— and everything with your mom. But please, baby. I don’t want to lose you because you’re afraid of what might happen tomorrow, not when we’ve got today. Do you get that?”

Harry nods, knocking their foreheads together.

“Say something, baby.”

After a shaky breath, Harry says, “I’m scared. I’m scared you won’t love me one day. That you'll stop. That I’ll be too old or too much or too broken. I’m so afraid of losing you, Lou, I… I don’t know what else to say.”

Pulling back, eyes searching Harry’s face, Louis says, “Let me scent you.”

“I’m okay. I don’t need—”

“This is for me. I need it.” Louis says, and Harry reaches up to run his thumb over the line between his eyebrows. 

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning,” Harry says. “Go ahead. Thank you for asking.”

Lying on the couch on his left side, his neck is exposed, and all Louis has to do is dip his head down. He presses his nose to Harry's skin and Louis’ scent, stronger and threaded with hope, wraps around them. The annoying contractions in Harry’s womb subside, and he breathes easier, taking in as much of Louis’ scent as he can before he stops. 

Louis rubs his nose along the curve where Harry’s neck meets his shoulder, and softly says, “I wanted you to have these pearls because you didn’t want my mark.”

With his head still in his ideal world, Harry says, “I do want it.”

Growling, Louis pulls back. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”

“With that little roar? I think not.” Harry scoffs, wrinkling his nose to stop his smile. 

“What are you thinking, Harry?” Louis brushes Harry’s hair off his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. 

Harry takes a moment, letting his gaze wander over Louis’ face as he considers what he truly wants. Finally, he admits, “I’m tired and I have to pee and I love you.” 

Saying it like that, so casually, is like a weight off his chest, and he suddenly wants to say something more. 

“Are we…” Louis blinks, and Harry can see fresh tears in the corners of his eyes. “What are we?”

“In love,” Harry says, enjoying the way Louis’ eyes crinkle when he can’t stop himself from smiling. “You’re my Alpha.”

Louis sucks in a sharp breath. “I thought you might say boyfriend.”

“No. I mean, I can. You can be that if— Since we’re not mated.”

Shaking his head, Louis says, “I want to be yours in every way. You know that.”

“I do. I’m still… I’m still nervous. I’m still scared, Lou. And I don’t know when I’ll want to bond.”

“I get that.” Louis offers Harry help up, but he declines, finding it easier to push himself up to sitting on his own. Though, he takes Louis’ hand to help him stand. “How about if… Why don’t you decide? I want to bond, but only when you’re ready. So, you let me know.”

“That sounds… too good to be true. But I feel that way about everything with you,” Harry confesses, lifting Louis’ hand and kissing his palm. “I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult. I’ve made everything harder for both of us.”

Louis twists his wrist, taking Harry’s hand in his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry responds instantly. Every time he says it, he feels lighter.


	27. Chapter 27

Living in the same building makes it simple for Louis to move in with Harry. It takes less than a day to rearrange the apartment to fit his things. Unfortunately for Harry, the gigantic, comfortable sectional sofa belongs to Liam and Zayn. They set up the portable crib in the living room, and move Harry’s office furniture out of the second bedroom so that they can finish turning it into a nursery. Though he doesn’t do any actual lifting or carrying or rearranging, Harry spends most of the day on his feet, and is exhausted by the time the sun goes down. 

The hurdles that his own mind set up are difficult to get over, but Harry tries. Louis makes it easier. Endlessly supportive, he cuddles, kisses, scents, and touches Harry exactly how and when he wants, anticipating his needs sometimes before Harry’s aware of them. In fact, he’s so in tune with Harry, that he realizes that the baby is coming before Harry does. 

“Those are not Braxton Hicks contractions, Harry,” Louis insists, holding up his phone so Harry can see the stopwatch in the dark of their bedroom. “Look how regular they are.”

“But they don’t hurt. Let me sleep,” Harry says, trying to roll over to his other side and getting stuck on his back. “God, I’m like a turtle on its shell.”

Snickering, Louis leans in and kisses Harry’s bare shoulder. “I called Doctor Fitzpatrick while you were sleeping. She said we should go to the hospital.”

“Louis!” Harry tries harder to roll over because he really needs to pee. “Help me?”

Louis throws off the blankets and climbs out of bed, hooking his hands under Harry’s arms and helping him up. “I’ve got the bag by the door. All we have to do is get dressed and go.”

“Oh my God,” Harry says, holding his belly with both hands as he waddles to the bathroom. “I’m not in labor. I’ve had three children. I know what it feels like.”

“Indulge me.”

“What?”

“Indulge me,” Louis repeats, leaning against the wall just outside the bathroom door. “You’re peeing with the door open.”

“Oh… I am,” Harry says. He does feel a little nauseous, one of his typical labor signs. “Ugh. Fine. Let me shower?”

“Only if you let me shower with you.”

“Really? Now?” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Not for sex, Harry. For stability. In case you have a bad contraction or something.”

Harry agrees, stepping into the shower as soon as it’s warm enough, and letting Louis wash him from head to toe. Cleaning his cock makes it hard almost immediately, and Harry winds up receiving a hand job under the running water. He comes so hard that Louis has to help him out of the shower and to the bed, where he lays down, panting and trying to catch his breath. 

“Ouch,” Harry whines, bending his knees and curling his body around his stomach. “Okay. Maybe this is labor.”

Moving as quickly as an enormously pregnant person can, Harry gets up off the bed. Louis helps him into his comfortable pregnancy jeans and one of his own hoodies, and once they’re both dressed, they head for the hospital. Doctor Fitzpatrick meets them there, and confirms that Harry is, in fact, in labor. 

It’s a familiar whirlwind, changing into a hospital gown, getting his IV, and being prepped for surgery, except that he’s not alone this time. Louis stays by his side until they wheel Harry to the operating room, and then another nurse comes to get Louis, and they’re separated for a little while. 

After the anesthesiologist finishes and Harry is lying on his back with a blue sheet hanging between him and the rest of the room, Louis is led into the room. He’s dressed head to toe in hospital scrubs, with a matching hat covering his hair, looking far too cute for so early in the morning. 

“Hi,” Louis whispers, taking a seat on the stool beside Harry. His hand trembles when he lifts it to touch Harry’s face, freezing midway. “Can I touch you?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” 

“I’m nervous,” Louis says, and Harry smiles. 

“I love you,” Harry tells him, and Louis nods, closing his eyes, and Harry can see his body relax a little. 

Louis holds his hand throughout the surgery, which doesn’t take very long at all. It seems like no time has passed when Doctor Fitzpatrick says, “Happy birthday, baby girl!” She holds the crying baby up so that Harry and Louis can see her before passing her to a nurse. 

“Oh my God, we have a baby,” Louis says, actually sounding surprised, and Harry cackles.

“Are you okay? You aren’t going to pass out, are you?” Harry asks, turning to look for a nurse to help them. 

“No, I’m… I’m fine. Just…” Louis turns and points to the nurse swaddling their little girl. “That’s a baby.”

“Here she comes,” Harry says as the nurse approaches. 

The nurse lays the baby on Harry’s chest, and Harry cradles her in his arms, tears slipping out of his eyes. She’s beautiful, of course, with dark hair and blue eyes that Harry hopes won’t change color, a wrinkly face and wide open mouth screaming her introduction to the world. 

Looking from Harry to the baby, Louis asks, “Can I hold her?” and Harry nods, letting him lift her and hold her in his arms. “She’s so gross.”

“Louis!”

“What? She is. Look at her. She’s slimy.”

“She’s beautiful,” Harry says.

“She is. Slimy and beautiful.” Louis grins and kisses her forehead. “I love you, little baby.”

While the doctors stitch Harry up, the nurses take the baby and Louis up to the nursery, and Harry lies there staring at the operating room ceiling. They finish and wheel him out of the OR, down to the recovery room, where he has to wait for a whole hour before he sees his Alpha or his little girl. It’s the longest hour of his life. Thankfully, Louis sends him picture after picture from the nursery, and then from the room that Harry will be moved to as soon as his hour is up. 

The nurses wheel him out of recovery and to his room, where Louis and the baby are waiting. They set up his bed, raising the back so he can sit, and Louis fluffs the pillows behind him. As soon as he settles in, he opens the front of the hospital gown and holds his arms out.

“I want to feed her, Lou,” Harry says, wiggling his fingers. 

Louis gently passes Harry the baby, and Harry holds her to his breast. It takes a moment, but she latches on, and Harry sighs with relief. 

“Look at that. She’s a natural,” Louis says, leaning down to kiss the top of her head while she eats. “Little baby girl Styles.”

“Can we…” Harry clears his throat, wiping a surprise tear away. “Can it be Styles-Tomlinson?”

Scrunching his nose, Louis purses his lips and nods. “Yeah. I like that. But what about the rest? We have to name her.”

“Okay, I have one,” Harry says, stroking her cheek. “What about Julia?”

“I…” Louis narrows his eyes. “I like it. It makes me think of the song. Seashell eyes, windy smile, ocean child. Why didn’t you mention it before?”

Harry shrugs, adjusting the baby’s hat on her fuzzy little head. “Because Jane’s name starts with a J, which is a silly reason.”

“Really?”

“That, and she was due March fifteenth, Ides of March, and Julia comes from Julius, so it seemed… I don’t know. Gimmicky.”

“It’s February twenty-ninth,” Louis says.

“Is it really? A leap day baby.” Harry softly taps the tip of her nose. “Need a middle name too.”

“Ooh!” Louis spins around, digging through the bag of Harry’s things. “I’ve got an idea, and maybe it’s dumb, so like, tell me if you hate it, but…” he turns back with Harry’s necklace hanging from his finger. “What about Pearl? It’s kind of old-fashioned, so maybe not. I don’t know.”

“I like it,” Harry says, reaching for Louis’ hand. “I love it actually. Our perfect little Pearl.”

▓▓▓

In the two weeks they’ve been home from the hospital, they’ve all three adjusted fairly well. At Harry’s request, instead of sleeping on the couch, Louis set up the portable crib beside their bed, and he sleeps cuddled up to Harry’s back. Whenever Julia wakes up, Louis does too. He gets out of bed and changes her diaper, handing her to Harry, who nurses her while lying down on his side. Most nights, she wakes three or four times, and having Louis there is a tremendous help. 

On the day of Harry’s postpartum doctor’s appointment, he leaves Julia for the first time, and though he misses her dreadfully during the few hours they’re apart, it’s much easier to get through the exam without her there. Once he’s finished there, Harry goes straight back home, leaning against the elevator wall on the ride up to his floor. He’s tired, but not as tired as he could be. 

There’s a piece of paper stuck to the door of his apartment, and Harry frowns as he approaches. In Louis’ messy scrawl, the note says:

_ Theater emergency! Have to run down there and help Lottie. I’ll be back soon. (Yes I took Julia with me!)(And I have your phone—you left it!) _

Harry laughs and folds up the note, slipping it into his back pocket. The theater isn’t far, and Doctor Fitzpatrick said he should start getting out and walking a bit, so Harry takes the elevator back down, and sets off. There’s a slight chill to the March air, but the morning is sunny and bright, and the walk is enjoyable. 

Just inside the door of the theater is their little yellow stroller, and Harry smiles at the image in his head of Louis pushing their baby down the sidewalk on the way to work. Carefully, Harry climbs the stairs to Louis’ office, stopping outside the open door to watch his Alpha. 

It must’ve really seemed like an emergency because Louis is still dressed in his favorite grey sweatpants which cling indecently to his bum, an old lavender sweater of Harry’s that Louis has taken to wearing around the house, and his Vans, but no socks. His feet will be smelly later. As Harry watches, Louis bounces in place, turning slightly, and Harry can see the baby in his arms, held tightly to his chest. He hums to her, mumbling words to a song that Harry’s can’t quite make out, so he steps into the room to listen, surprised when Louis doesn’t immediately notice his presence. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you for not crying anymore,” Louis sings as he bounces. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorry I cut your fingernail too short. Your dad’s gonna kill me. Shh…”

“Your papa overestimates the amount of energy I have,” Harry says, amused at Louis’ creativity, even when he’s clearly stressed and upset. Louis turns to face him, and Harry sputters out a laugh. He’s a mess: spit up on his sweater, hair standing up on one side, and half of his face shaved. “What happened to you?”

Louis shakes his head, but keeps bouncing. “I wanted to trim her nails ’cause she keeps scratching herself and those little mittens won’t stay on, but she moved while I was doing her thumb and it bled and she screamed and I cried, but now she’s quiet and I’m afraid to stop bouncing.”

Pressing his lips together to stop himself from laughing, Harry steps closer and reaches for her. Louis heaves a relieved sigh when Harry takes her and sits down on the loveseat. Julia latches onto Harry’s nipple as soon as he holds her to his breast, a pro at eating already. Looking up at Louis, Harry pats the seat next to him. “You only shaved half of your face.”

“Oh…” Louis touches his shaved cheek and says, “I forgot. She woke up while I was shaving, so I just wiped my face off and figured I’d finish later, but then before I could get her diaper changed, Lottie called. I put some clothes on her and left in a hurry.” 

“Poor baby,” Harry says, tugging Julia’s hat down over her ears. 

“I know. I’m sorry I cut her.” Letting his head fall back, Louis presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“I was talking about you, Alpha,” Harry says, leaning in to kiss Louis’ scruffy cheek. 

Louis drops his hands to his lap, looking over at Harry. “I love it when you call me that.”

“Poor baby?” Harry smirks, and Louis rolls his eyes fondly.

“You know what I mean,” Louis says. “Didn’t think it’d make me that happy to hear you call me Alpha, but it really does.”

Harry bites his lower lip, eyes roaming over Louis’ tired face. “I don’t know when my heat will come, but I want you to bond me when it does.”

“Really?” Louis sits up fast. 

“Yeah, really.”

“Holy shit, baby.” Louis slides to the floor and kneels at Harry’s feet, resting his hands on Harry’s knees, and looking up at him. “Are you gonna let me marry you too?”

“What— Are you proposing?” Harry asks, and when Louis nods, Harry tells him, “You’ve got spit up on your shirt.”

“Don’t care,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows and grinning maniacally. “Marry me anyway.”

“Okay,” Harry says, surprising himself with how quickly he agreed. 

“Yes!” Louis leaps to his feet, clapping his hands and startling Julia, who pulls away from Harry’s breast and frowns. “Shit! Sorry!”

Professional baby that she is, Julia gets right back to business, ignoring Louis, and Harry wiggles the fingers of his free hand at him until Louis takes it, kissing his knuckles. Harry pulls his hand until he bends down and kisses him on the lips instead. “I love you. But you have to brush your teeth.”

▓▓▓

Their wedding takes place a few months later, on a warm Saturday in May, at the park across the street from their apartment building. Liam officiates, because of course in addition to being a firefighter and an EMT, he’s also a Notary. Char and Lottie plan the entire thing at Harry’s request. The only decision he makes is what to wear, and he can’t even keep that a secret from Louis. 

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Louis says after he finishes buttoning Harry’s shirt, tugging gently on his pearl necklace. “But I really want to take that off of you.”

Harry rolls his eyes, turning to face the mirror. “You can do that after the ceremony.”

Groaning, Louis sits on the bed, leaning back to rest on his elbows. The spread of his thighs is inviting, but Harry stays put, slipping the white suspenders over his shoulders, and admiring the white lace, ribbons, and pearls of his blouse and trousers. All he has to do now is put on the matching gloves, but he’s waiting until just before the ceremony to do that.

“Get dressed, Lou,” Harry says, smoothing his hands over the slight swell of his stomach. He’s been swimming again, but is still taking it easy. Surprisingly, he hasn’t been in a huge rush to lose the baby weight and get back to the gym six days a week. “Julia’s probably only going to give us forty-five minutes. An hour tops.”

“Okay, okay. Just… You look really hot in that,” Louis says, coming to stand behind him, and resting his hands on Harry’s hips. 

“I told you, you can undress me later. Get your clothes on.”

Harry leaves him in the bedroom. It’s the only way they’ll ever get anywhere on time. He buckles his white Mary Janes, and stands, waiting nervously by the door. 

“Let’s go, if you’re in such a hurry to be married to me,” Louis says, and Harry gasps. Because he told Louis what he was planning to wear, he didn’t expect Louis to wear a suit, thinking he’d prefer something more casual. But Louis is dressed in a dark blue pinstriped suit, with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. “I figured I didn’t need the tie.”

“You look gorgeous,” Harry says, biting his lip and leaning in to smell him. “After you undress me, I get to undress you, right?”

“If you behave,” Louis says, reaching around to pinch Harry’s bum. He squeals and smacks Louis’ arm.

“Me?” 

“You. I saw you looking at my ass when I was in the shower this morning.”

“I was in the shower with you, Louis.”

“Are you denying looking at my ass?”

With a dramatic eye roll, Harry opens the door, pushing him into the hall. They ride down in the elevator holding hands, and Harry pinches Louis’ bum the second they step onto the sidewalk. 

The ceremony is short and simple. With their friends and family gathered around them, they say their vows, standing in front of the fountain at the center of the park. Julia sleeps through the entire thing in her little yellow stroller, which is bedecked with daffodils and ribbons, waking up when Liam pronounces them married and everyone applauds. 

Unfortunately, she’s quite hungry, and Harry finds it impossible to feed her in his wedding attire. So they quickly make their way back up to their apartment, where he changes clothes without Louis’ assistance. 

The reception is at Zayn’s restaurant, and as soon as they have cake and a sip of champagne, Julia is ready for her nighttime routine. They leave before the party gets in full swing, but Harry doesn’t mind. He spends the evening doing exactly what he wants to do: watching  _ When Harry Met Sally, _ cuddling Louis and Julia on the couch, and falling asleep before the movie ends. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last chapter!

When he first told Louis he wanted to bond during his next heat, Harry thought it would come much sooner. 

Elizabeth was only a few months old when Harry started seeing signs that his heat was approaching. Jane and Char were six months and seven months, respectively. All three of those heats came after the girls started sleeping through the night. 

However, Louis has turned into a light sleeper since Julia was born, waking at the slightest noise from her, hurrying to pick her up and soothe her, before changing her diaper and bringing her to Harry to nurse. Harry’s told him a few times that he should give her a moment to fall back to sleep before picking her up, but he doesn’t have the heart to be firm about it just yet. It makes him happy to see how attentive his Alpha is, so he lets it be. 

Which is why Julia is closing in on a year when Louis comes home one night from the theater, leans over the back of the couch to say hello to Harry while he nurses her, takes one sniff of Harry’s neck, and declares his heat imminent. 

“I’d estimate three days,” Louis says, licking over the spot where he’ll bite and bond Harry. “Was wondering why I’d been thinking about knotting you all day.”

“Louis.” Harry shushes him and bounces Julia in his arms. She’s been asleep for a few minutes, but hasn’t stopped feeding yet, and they’ve both been waiting for Louis to get home. 

“She can’t hear me,” Louis says, still bent over, lips brushing against Harry’s skin with every word. “Missed you.”

“Missed you,” Harry whispers, turning his head to kiss Louis properly. “You smell good. Don’t shower.”

“Maybe three days is overestimating,” Louis says, and Harry kisses him again. 

“So, Sunday or Monday?” Harry pouts. “I’ll be in heat on my birthday.”

“Yeah, but the party’s not ’til the next weekend,” Louis says, standing up and pulling out his phone. “I’m texting Niall.”

“I’ll do it. Here. Take her,” Harry says, slipping his thumb into Julia’s mouth to get her to let go of his nipple. “She needs a change, too.”

While Louis takes Julia to her room to get her ready for bed, Harry texts Niall, who promised to play messenger with Jane, Char, and Elizabeth. Allison and Zoe have asked if they can keep Julia overnight so that she and Felix can play. Unfortunately for Louis’ little sisters, they’re pretty far down the line of volunteer babysitters. 

The next few days pass quickly, with Harry obsessively taking his temperature, and it seems like they barely get everything done in time for their heat and rut to hit. 

After dropping Julia off with Zoe and Allison, Harry picks up his and Louis’ new prescriptions for lucidity meds and heads home. He’s just as nervous walking into his own apartment as he was that first heat with Louis almost two years before. Sweat beads his forehead, and not because he made himself take the stairs. 

Harry opens the door to their apartment and Louis immediately walks towards him from the kitchen. Smiling hard, Harry leans back against the door to close it, and tries to lock it without looking, but Louis gets there first, flipping the deadbolt and crowding Harry against the door. 

“Hello,” Harry says, as Louis mouths at his neck. 

“You smell so good, baby.” Louis nips at Harry’s mating spot. “Missed you. Happy birthday.”

“Love you.” Closing his eyes, Harry tips his head to the side. “Can’t wait to bond with you.”

Growling with his teeth pressed to Harry's skin, Louis sucks a bruise where he’ll bite Harry later, and pulls back. “Love you.”

Harry hits him in the arm with the bag in his hand. “Lucidity meds, Lou.”

Taking the bag, Louis kisses Harry’s bruised neck once more, and leads him to the kitchen hand in hand. If Harry knows his husband, their bedroom is already set up and ready to go. 

“Here,” Louis says, handing Harry one of two glasses of ice water sitting on the counter. Harry swallows his pills without thinking about it until he drains the glass and sets it back down, staring wide-eyed at Louis, who asks, “You okay?”

Harry nods. “Yeah. I should take my temp.”

“Why?” Louis lifts his hand, resting the inside of his wrist against Harry’s forehead. “We’re home. Everything’s ready. We can just…” Lowering his hand, Louis tips his head to the side, sniffing the air. “You smell anxious.”

“I am,” Harry admits. 

“Baby,” Louis whispers, circling his arms around Harry’s waist and pulling him close. “Is this about bonding or about—”

“My heat!” Harry rushes to reassure him. “I’m nervous about… I don’t know how I’ll behave. You could bond me right now, if you wanted.”

Growling low in his throat, Louis leans in, sucking another harsh kiss on Harry’s neck. Lips still pressed against Harry's skin, the rough scratch of his beard sends shivers down Harry’s spine when he mumbles, “Shouldn’t talk like that.”

“Why?” Harry asks, tipping his head and threading his fingers through Louis’ hair. 

“Don’t want to do it in the kitchen.” Louis nips at his mating spot again, sliding his hands down to Harry's lower back and tucking his fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers. His touch is cool on Harry’s overheated skin and wetness seeps from between his cheeks, soaking his pad. 

Pushing Louis away, Harry says, “Bedroom, then.”

Louis takes him by the hand again, leading him to their room. The door swings open and Harry gasps. 

Like Harry expected, the bed is stripped down to only a fitted sheet, with extras stacked on the chair in the corner. There’s a jar of peanut butter and a basket of fruit on the dresser, and a small cooler on the floor. In the corners of the bedroom where they’ll be out of the way, Louis has hung strings of fairy lights, and with the lamps off, it gives the room a soft, pale golden glow. 

“Lou,” Harry whispers, biting the side of his thumb as he tries to take it all in. 

“You ready?” 

Harry shakes his head. “Give me a moment?”

“Sure, baby,” Louis says, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek and patting him on the bum when he turns towards the bathroom. Harry squeaks and jumps, swatting his hand away. 

Alone, Harry quickly strips out of his clothes, pees, then washes his hands and face. He brushes his teeth, staring at his reflection. A year ago, he never would’ve been able to look at himself standing naked in front of a mirror without wondering what Louis would think about his lines and wrinkles, scars and sagging skin. 

One night last week, after they put Julia to bed, Louis laid him down on the couch, kissing what felt like every inch of him, including the scar from his c-section, murmuring words of love in such a worshipful tone that Harry had to close his eyes. Then he brought him off with his mouth, licking him clean. 

Harry has no hesitations about bonding with Louis. He’ll proudly wear his mating mark for the rest of his life, and they’ve even decided together that Harry will bite Louis too, though it’s much less common for Omegas to mark their Alphas. And he really shouldn’t be nervous about his behavior during heat, not since Louis told him what he was like during the last one. After he takes one last deep breath, Harry turns off the light and steps back into the bedroom. 

“I knew you’d undress in there,” Louis says, patting the mattress beside his hip and rolling onto his side. He’s naked, too, lying there in the middle of their bed, already hard and waiting for Harry, who crawls up and lays down beside him. 

“Of course I did. You’d take forever to get me out of my trousers.”

Pouting so that Harry can’t help but roll his eyes, Louis says, “It’s my favorite part.”

“I can go get dressed again,” Harry offers, though he knows Louis won’t take him up on it, too busy trailing his fingers over Harry’s side and kissing the hollow of his throat. With his hand on Harry’s hip, Louis moves closer until they’re stomach to stomach and chest to chest, sucking at the bruise where his bite will be soon. 

Pulling back a little, Louis meets his eyes, and Harry wonders if his own are as dark and glassy as Louis’ are. He leans in again, nudging their noses together. “Your scent, baby. It’s incredible.”

“It’s the same as my last heat, Lou,” Harry says, tipping his head to let Louis nuzzle his neck again. 

“Not the same.” Sniffing along Harry’s jawline, Louis drags his lips over Harry’s scruff, growling low in his throat. “God… Wanna knock you up again.”

“Yes,” Harry hisses, letting his heat take over, though his mind remains clear. When he inhales deeply, his senses are flooded with the combination of Louis’ devotion and his own adoration, but he’s too far gone to think properly or to wonder why he can pick those apart. Louis slips his hand down between Harry’s thighs, cupping his balls and reaching behind them as soon as Harry bends his knee. 

Wetter than he ever is outside of heat, Harry’s body welcomes Louis’ fingers when he pushes two inside. He curls them, finding Harry’s prostate, before kissing his way down Harry’s neck and chest, stopping to take his nipple into his mouth. Harry sighs happily, cradling the back of Louis’ neck while he sucks on each of his nipples in turn, fucking his fingers in deep. 

“Give me a baby, Lou,” Harry says as soon as Louis slides his fingers out. 

“Gonna. Gonna fill you up, keep you on my knot for days,” Louis says, groaning as he urges Harry onto his back. Harry hooks his hands behind his knees, but Louis shakes his head, leaning down to lick the beads of milk away from Harry’s nipples as they gather, and Harry releases his legs, wrapping them around Louis’ waist instead. 

Sucking one nipple between his lips, Louis pulls more milk from Harry’s breast, and when he shifts slightly, the head of his dick bumps against Harry’s slick rim. Louis moans into Harry’s chest, kissing his way up to Harry’s neck, while reaching down to steady himself as he pushes inside. His cock feels thicker and harder, stretching and filling Harry until there’s hardly room to breathe, and he bucks his hips, setting a brutal pace from the start.

Unable to do more than press his hands against the headboard, Harry gives himself over to his heat, relishing the force of Louis’ thrusts. As he begs to be bred, and Louis promises over and over to give him as many babies as he can, Harry threads his fingers through Louis’ hair. He tugs until Louis lifts his head, kissing his waiting mouth. His Alpha is strong and tender and perfect, fucking him roughly while leaving soft kisses wherever his lips land. The contrasting touches have Harry trembling and coming fast, long before Louis’ knot begins to swell. 

“Baby,” Louis says, panting into the curve of Harry’s underarm. “Gonna knock you up again.”

“Do it,” Harry whines, spreading his thighs and trying to take more of Louis inside him. “Want you to.”

Growling, Louis pistons his hips, the slight swell of his knot bumping against Harry’s rim. He slips his arm behind one of Harry’s knees, holding him open and dicking in fast. The knot at the base of his cock expands, popping in and out with every thrust, until it catches inside. Grinding against him, Louis’ knot rubs him in all the right places, stretching him even more. 

With a short grunt, Louis falls forward, burying his face against Harry’s neck, and licking over his mating spot. In the haze of his heat, thanks to his lucidity meds, Harry’s still aware and able to remember what happens next, whispering into Louis’ ear, “Breed me, Lou. Mate me and breed me and make me yours.”

Louis’ teeth pierce his skin before Harry finishes speaking, and Harry comes again, tangling his fingers in Louis’ hair to hold him there while his orgasm sends sparks shooting up his spine. The bond flares to life, clearing Harry’s mind as it ties them together, and Louis sucks and licks and bites him again, rolling them over so that he’s underneath Harry. He cups the back of Harry’s neck, guiding him to his scent gland and pressing gently until Harry remembers what he’s supposed to do. He bites down, breaking the skin, and sucking a bruise until he feels the bond twist, and the torrent of Louis’ emotions flows into him. 

“Oh my God,” Harry says, sitting up and back. The change of position makes Louis’ pulsing knot rub against his prostate again, and Harry comes for the third time, while tears run down his face. 

“Baby?” Louis asks, raspy and quiet, but the concern woven through his voice and their bond draw Harry’s attention. He looks down at Louis, blinking slowly. 

“I can feel you here.” Holding his hand to his heart, Harry closes his eyes, marveling at the strength of their connection, astonished that their bond makes him feel so complete. “Can you feel me?”

Nodding, Louis reaches up and pulls Harry to his chest, kissing him much too sweetly for an Alpha in rut. “Love you so much, Harry.”

Unable to control himself, Harry sobs, hiding his face in the curve of Louis’ neck. “Love you, Lou. My Alpha.”

Louis hums, running his palm over Harry’s spine. “My baby. My Omega.”

A grin tugs at the corners of Harry’s mouth, and he says, “Yours. Always yours.”

▓▓▓

“Happy birthday!” 

Harry jumps, still clinging to Louis’ hand, staring around the restaurant at all of their friends and family. “What…” 

“Surprise?” Louis bites his lower lip, leaning in and kissing Harry’s cheek. 

“But… If Zayn and Liam are here, who has Julia?” Harry asks, searching the room for his baby.

“Phoebe and Daisy,” Louis answers. “Twenty bucks an hour. They have Felix too.”

“Oh my God, Louis,” Harry says, shaking his head, and letting go of his hand to cup Louis’ jaw and kiss him properly. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, baby,” Louis says, nuzzling Harry’s new mating bite. “Happy birthday.”

Louis takes his hand, leading him over to the bar where Gemma’s waiting with a glass of red wine. She passes it to Harry and says, “Fifty-two or twenty-five?”

“Fifty-two,” Harry says, laughing and throwing his head back. “Who wants to be twenty-five?”

“I mean, I do,” Jane says, stepping up beside him and wrapping him up in a hug. “I’ve enjoyed twenty-five so far. Happy birthday, Dad.”

“Thanks, Janie.” Harry kisses her cheek. “Love you.”

“Char and Elizabeth are arguing over the music,” she says with a roll of her eyes. 

“Of course they are,” Harry says, matching her eye roll. 

It’s the best birthday party of Harry’s life. Louis booked Zayn’s restaurant for the night, and the food is, as always, incredible. Harry drinks his favorite wine, dances with his daughters, and whenever he turns around, his eyes find Louis, whether he’s beside him or across the room.

Their bond connects them in a way that Harry wasn’t aware was possible, and everytime they look at each other, Harry feels a surge of Louis’ love like adrenaline flowing through his veins. Watching as Louis walks across the floor to him, Harry smiles. As soon as he’s close enough, Harry reaches for him, and Louis takes his hands, pulling him onto the makeshift dance floor.

“Dance with me?” Louis asks, already gripping Harry’s hips.

“We’ve never done this,” Harry says, letting Louis guide him closer.

“Not true. We dance all the time,” Louis says, pressing a kiss to Harry’s mating mark. 

“Yeah, at home.” Kissing Louis’ mark in return, Harry says, “In the kitchen. The bedroom. The shower. Not in public.”

“Remember we’re in public, then,” Louis warns him, moving his hands to Harry’s lower back, pressing their hips together. “Don’t take your clothes off.”

“I’ll try,” Harry says, lifting his head from Louis’ shoulder, and leaning in until their foreheads touch. He drapes his arms around Louis, snuggling close. “This is the best birthday.”

“Good,” Louis says, nudging their noses together. “That’s what I was going for.”

Harry pulls back, wanting to see more of Louis. A year with a new baby has given him a few more grey hairs, and deepened the crinkles by his eyes, but he’s still beautiful. “Alpha,” Harry whispers, and Louis raises his eyebrows expectantly. “I wish I was better with words.”

“Why?” Louis asks, pursing his lips, and studying Harry’s face. 

“Just wish I could say something more than ‘I love you’ to let you know how I feel,” Harry says, closing his eyes, and trying to send as much affection through their bond as he can. Louis tightens his hold on Harry's waist, pulling him impossibly close, as love flows back and forth through their bond. 

“It’s alright, baby,” Louis murmurs, kissing Harry's forehead. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much to everyone who's read along as a WIP! It makes the experience for me. I love you guys!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! 
> 
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